Gundam SeeD Destiny: Lion of Heaven Edited, Book 1
by Spiritblade
Summary: The edited chapters of Kouryuo Sabre's fanfic Gundam SeeD Destiny: Lion of Heaven. Read the Disclaimer.
1. Disclaimers and Ownership Rights

_**Gundam SeeD Destiny: Lion of Heaven**_

_**Book 1: Overture**_

_**Original Story and Drafts by Kouryuo Sabre**_

_**Edited by Spiritblade**_

_**Disclaimer**_

Before you all are asking why there are two copies of the same story, it is best I start explaining myself. As I have written on my profile page, I am under the employ of Kouryuo Sabre as the editor of his epic story, Lion of Heaven. The chapters that are posted here are a security blanket for the both of us (but mostly for me), as my computers have a habit of crashing on me - thus causing my temper to fray and my blood pressure to skyrocket.

So, this Initiative was implemented. Better safe than sorry.

And no, I am _**NOT**_ stealing Kouryuo Sabre's story, though he has granted me approval - and permission **has** been asked - to write a story according to my own vision. Kouryuo Sabre has a vision of his own, an excellent and ambitious one, which drew my attention the day he started his project.

_**Firstly**_, I state that any chapters in this story posted under my name will appear as well in Kouryuo Sabre's story. If he chooses to make any changes according to his vision, it is his right. I will not contest his decision. Just as he makes the first draft, so am I given the task to make the second better – it will allow my employer to forge ahead without worrying.

_**Secondly,**_ this is **not** a competition, period. This is a joint project.

_**Thirdly,**_ even should I re-write this epic according to my own vision, any rights of ownership I surrender to Kouryuo Sabre on condition that he changes nothing; I am interested only in the completion of the story and that with it, I can move a world and the people within (though I only pray I can...).

_**Lastly, and finally**_ I request that **NO**comparisons be made between Kouryuo Sabre's and my story. Everything here is, after all, based on his original drafts. It will be most discourteous of me – or anyone – to make comparisons.

On an additional note, I have included extra segments not available in Kouryuo Sabre's original drafts. These are the Editor's notes, made so that Kouryuo (and you) can refer to a standardised data-table without getting bush-whacked.

Oh, and before I forget, GS and GSD (and anything else that is not handmade by both of us) belongs to their respective owners. So put aside that legal hammer. We're both too poor to be worth the effort.

Okay, with all the legalities out of the way, let us begin.

From Kouryuo Sabre and me, we present the First Book of the Gundam SeeD Destiny – Lion of Heaven: Overture.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Gundam SeeD Destiny: Lion of Heaven**_

_**Original idea and story by Kouryuo Sabre**_

_**Re-written by Spiritblade**_

_**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Gundam SeeD or Gundam SeeD Destiny. Wish I did, or the latter would go as this story would have went. Hehe...enough self-aggrandisement. Let's get on with this. The original fanfic was by Kouryuo Sabre. He wrote this story, filled with all the magick one as gifted as he could give. And so, I aided him, but I was also inspired by what he had planned that I wanted to take a shot at it as well.

This story, ladies and gentlemen, will NEVER be mine. It is Kouryuo Sabre's, dedicated to him, to the story and the idea that we could both touch the sky. And perhaps, should we finish our stories, we both shall.

For all of you, and for Holy Terra.

-- Spiritblade

**X X X X X X X**

_They say that history is doomed to repeat itself, as long as people forget the lessons of the past. The man that stood beneath the starlit sky as snow fell about him knew otherwise. He knew that, like the circle of life, it was only a matter of time before history __**repeated**__ itself, before old mistakes are committed by new names. _

_This place was beautiful - once. A long time ago, he and his friends would come here to enjoy the vista he looked upon now. He could almost see their faces, as they reclined upon the soft grass, looking up at the sky, sharing dreams without speaking a single word. There used to be over a dozen of them, all of them having followed him as they fought for an ideal his parents had seared into his soul: honour._

_His friends embodied the courage and the will to reach for that victory, and had paid with their lives in the process, leaving him alone to return to this place. They had sworn that they would stand here when the war was over. There was nothing left of the beautiful Emerald Palace of Rigel - nothing but snow-covered ruins and the echo of that promise that was as cold as the icy winds that raged about him. _

_The Empire fell under its anachronistic weight and rampant corruption. His parents had fought to tear out the cancer, only to have their son join in the rebellion to undo all they had bled to build. How ironic. How truly ironic. Was it justified? How many have died? How many __**more **__will die? The number of how many have died was staggering. Innocent and guilty alike have fallen in the backlash of retribution. But, what was truly staggering to the man was the fact that he knew many of the dead. He had been there as former friends became enemies, bound by an oath to a ruler whose ambitions would tear Creation apart in a bloody civil war. He had tried to tell them, begged them to abandon their oaths to her - but they would not listen. _

_And he knew why. He knew why they would not sway. It did not make it any easier as he gave the order to have them destroyed. In the silence of this place, he could almost hear their voices condemning him. The voices of his comrades-in-arms who had chosen to follow him were silent, unspeaking, saying nothing to counter the accusations of the friends they had murdered in the name of a righteous cause._

_'Did I do the right thing?' the man asked himself, 'Did I?'_

_He turned his eyes to the sky above. Once upon a time, he had protected those stars, and had soared among them to crush the enemies of humanity. It was his purpose. And those stars, glittering forever in all their glory, gazing down upon every folly and victory of his flawed race, would tell God the story of each and every soul that had ever lived._

_Including his own._

_**Chapter 1**_

_**War's End**_

_**Tears, sorrow and regret**_

_**Oaths made**_

_**'The End is but a prelude to a new beginning.' - I remember those words as though it were yesterday. Now, as I sit down writing this, I have a chance to reflect on the reasons that have led me to become the woman that I am when I donned the uniform of an Earth Alliance officer. Like so many before me, I had refused to acknowledge the laws that demanded something equal in value to that which was asked - and paid dearly for my ignorance. **_

_**I did not want to accept the truth at first that to create a future, one had to place the past on the sacrificial altar to pave the way to that moment.**_

_**At the end of the Bloody Valentine War in C.E. 71, the peace that both sides fought for was more or less achieved. But, that peace was not without price - and a high one, at that. Many, many lives have been lost in the sixteen months ever since the War began. I knew some of the people who had died in that war, people I had known longer than the one person I wanted to see more than anything, but it was his life - next to mine - that I prayed had not been lost.**_

_**It is selfish, I know, but this one person saved my life twice, uncaring of the danger he was in. Twice have I repaid that act by abandoning him, believing him lost...another faceless, casualty of war. When he saved me a second time did it begin to sink him what he meant to me. He was not just another MS pilot. He was more. Without him, I can say with a fair amount of certainty that the war would have ended differently with entire Earth Sphere in flames.**_

_**And what did I do when he was trying to end this insane war? I stood in his way, believing then that what I was doing had been the right thing to do. In my ignorance, I cost him his life, this boy who had become a man before my very eyes, this boy who, before I knew it, had etched a place in my heart that no other man had. I know I am not the first to hold such feelings for him, but I was probably the only one who never said those words that needed to be said.**_

_**But one day, someday, somehow, I will be able to say them to him without fear or shame.**_

Journal entry of Natarle Badgiruel, Commander of EA Archangel-class Assault Ship, _Shield of Destiny, _written on 23rd March, C.E. 73

**X X X X X X**

_**24th December, C.E. 71. Christmas Eve. **_

It has been three days since the Bloody Valentine War between Earth and PLANT came to a head at Yakin Due. Hundreds had perished in the titanic conflict, but it had burned away the ignorance that had festered in the hearts of those who lived in the Earth Sphere. It was one of the many bittersweet revelations that came to light during the peace talks that both sides held during the cease-fire. But, for each revelation that was made, a sense of calm came to those who were finally, after years of jealousy, hate and bigotry, willing to listen.

For the first time in so long, both sides gazed across the table, and saw that the party sitting on the other side was but a mirror image of themselves, with every human frailty and foible that science and time could not erase. It was ironic that a line that was spoken during those same negotiations made the men and women who stood there reflect its meaning, for in that one line, was all that encompassed humanity's inability to change no matter how many centuries would come and go.

"Tickle us," that man said, "do we not laugh? Prick us, do we not bleed? Wrong us, and shall we not take vengeance?"

Yes, Shakespeare had been most intuitive when it came to understanding human nature. But, that 18th century writer was also right about one thing - emotions can draw people of different origins together. It is a powerful thing that can shake the sky, and bring the mightiest heroes to their knees. And those heroes stood and stared upon the cold vacuum of the starry void, of the debris of a war fought in hate, of the thousands of bodies that still laid unclaimed, and felt the sorrow that has seen eternity. They realised that of so many that had gone forth to fight for a better tomorrow, few would ever return. And for some, the scars ran deep...and those bleeding, painful wounds would never heal.

In the medical bay of the Archangel, an Earth Forces captain finally opened her eyes, raising a bandaged hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the lights above. She felt light-headed and dizzy, and her wounds ached despite the painkillers that her rescuers had no doubt given her. The captain's analytical mind, sharp despite the fog of medication, wanted to know her current situation. She tried to get up, only to fall back onto the bed with a strangled gasp of pain. The move also caused a new wave of dizziness to sweep through her, and the bright lights of the medical bay made it worse. But, the captain thought inwardly, considering that she was alive after being shot several times, it was something she could live with.

"You're finally awake, Captain Badgiruel. How are you feeling? You've been asleep for three days now," a familiar voice spoke, causing the dark-haired captain to turn her head to the right. There, sitting on a chair beside an adjoining bed where a badly injured Mwu la Flaga was lying, was Murrue Ramius. The injured blonde major, Natarle saw, was badly injured, if the heavily bandaged torso and left arm were any indications.

"Three days, huh?Feels a lot longer than that," Natarle said as she made a second attempt to sit up, succeeding this time, and winced in pain as her body protested against the strain. Her wince of pain did not go unseen, and Murrue told her that she had best take it easy for a while. When Natarle had been ferried from the Dominion, she had lost so much blood that, had she not gotten treatment upon arrival, she would have died.

Natarle drank the cup of water Murrue handed to her, "Can you bring me up to speed on everything? Am I a prisoner? I'm sure that with all I've done, it is a fair chance that I'm one. Can I have another glass, please?" and handed the cup to the brown haired captain. Murrue nodded and drew closer, and Natarle saw that the former's eyes were red and puffy - indications that she had been crying long and hard. Her expression was of one trying to fight back emotional anguish that could only come with losing something one has cherished - a look that Natarle knew was on too many faces.

"You're not a prisoner, Natarle. You're a guest and will be treated like one. There's nothing military about this arrangement. And don't worry about your crew - they're doing okay," Mwu said as he sat himself upright, taking care not to pull out the IV by accident.

"If that's the case," Natarle replied, "can you tell me what happened after I was brought here? I can only guess, from the looks the both of you are sporting, that the last three days had been...difficult.". Natarle saw the expressions of the two before her soon became bleaker than before upon mention of the word.

"After you and your crew were brought here, this ship headed over to join up with the Kusanagi and the Eternal to try and stop GENESIS from firing at the Earth directly. Before we could, Rau le Creuset came after us in a new mobile suit. He would have destroyed us but...I..." and Murrue started to tremble. Natarle could see that her brown-haired counterpart was struggling not to break down.

Before she could ask what was wrong, Mwu picked up where Murrue had left off, "Kira came out of nowhere and started fighting with Rau le Creuset in Freedom. It was hard to watch and not being able to help as he was seriously up against a superior opponent. Even with all the extra weapons on METEOR, few of the hits ever connected."

Natarle did not miss the look of shame on his face, and the pieces started to fall slowly into place. The two before her cared for the young Coordinator, and asking the question that she was about to ask would be hard. It was one that no one wants to answer.

"Did Ensign Yama...I mean, did Kira lose the fight?" Natarle asked, her voice shaky.

Murrue shook her head, but the despondent look on her face - both hers and Mwu's - chilled Natarle. They knew how the story ended, and telling it to her, a friend who became their enemy, made the wounds hurt all the more, "Kira managed to protect the Archangel, and we almost had a heart-attack when Creuset flew off after he managed to destroy Kira's METEOR weapons pack. He flew out of the explosion, asked if we were all right, and flew after le Creuset's Providence Gundam. We lost track of him soon after."

"From what Kusanagi and the Eternal could tell us, Creuset was about to attack them when Kira slammed Freedom into Providence and carried them both out of gun range. I don't think anyone would ever forget the fight that erupted between them," Mwu said, picking up as Murrue trailed off, unable to speak anymore, "They were practically cutting each other to pieces, and neither were about to back off, even when their fight took them right in front of the GENESIS cannon as it was powering up to fire on Earth. GENESIS exploded as it did, and they lost sight of him in the explosion."

"Was he caught in it?" Natarle asked, starting to fear the worst. The commander of the Dominion tried to keep her voice even, but it was useless. The events that she had lived through and the truths she had borne witness to broke down any semblance of discipline. She had always wanted Kira to be the perfect soldier, the sword that would end the war, but now...she wanted to see him alive. He saved her from Azrael, as the maniacal Blue Cosmos leader was about to finish her off. Her memory was fuzzy due to the pain and the blood loss. The only thing that the dark-haired captain could remember was Kira preventing Azrael from delivering the coup de grace. He had disarmed Azrael and flung him towards the bridge's transparisteel windows, hard. His eyes widened when he saw that she was still alive, and was about to grab her and flee the Dominion when Azrael recovered both his gun and his composure. A gunshot caused Kira to fly backwards, followed by several more, each time punctuated by Azrael screaming curses on Kira and his kind. The fourth shot turned out to be his last. The bullet missed Kira by inches and bounced off the wall, ceiling and floor before sending Azrael crashing harder than when he had been thrown by the young Coordinator into the blast windows once again. This time, Azrael floated lifelessly, the wound that had killed him a fatal one.

"It is somewhat fitting that it ends like this. Hatred always was a double-edged sword that killed in the backswing," Kira said as he watched Azrael's body float to the ceiling, his blood floating in the battered Dominion's zero-g environment. Kira's voice mingled with those of Mwu's as the latter continued the story that Murrue found too painful to even speak of.

"Kira survived the explosion, but it was clear that Freedom was barely holding together after the explosion and the fight he had had with Creuset. He called in to tell us that he was all right, but he had been badly injured. Jesus...if it had been anybody else, they would have been dead from all those wounds - Coordinator or not. He asked us if there was any word on Cagalli and Athrun, and we told him that they were all right, that Cagalli brought them both back to the Kusanagi safely. He had that look of relief I would give my life's savings to see again. When we got word that ZAFT was calling for a cease-fire with the Earth Forces, I think I could hear the cheers even without the communication lines open...

"But, we were so glad of the war's end that we failed to notice that the Dominion had snuck up right behind us and had its main guns trained on the Archangel."

That caused Natarle to sit up. There was no one left on the Dominion when she gave the order to abandon it. The only people left behind then were her and Azrael. The latter died by his own hand, so who could have piloted the Dominion? There were two possibilities. The first was that one of her crew had gotten back on board the Dominion and was going to carry out a last-ditch effort to sink the Archangel. That, in itself, was impossible. The Dominion had suffered so much damage that it was no longer battle-worthy. The second possibility caused a white hot fury to erupt in the dark-haired officer, and blinded her to her body's scream of protest as she slammed a hand hard against the bulkhead. Murata Azrael had somehow survived and wanted revenge on those who stood against him.

"There was not enough time to stop the Dominion from firing or for the Archangel to dodge the attack. All we could do was watch as Death came streaking towards us. But...he refused to let it happen. I saw it. I saw Kira fly a badly-damaged Freedom into the path of the Dominion's barrage," Murrue said, her voice shaking, the tears and the sobs she had been fighting back erupting once more. It was the sound of a broken child, and it was horrible for Natarle to hear. These two, who had fought for something better than what she had stood for, being broken like this, terrified the dark-haired commander. She wanted to scream at them, accuse them of lying...but she knew that these two were incapable of such deceit.

To see Murrue cry like this brought back memories of others who cared deeply for Kira, and the image of a red-haired girl came unbidden. She had not forgotten their conversation over two weeks ago prior to the confrontation between Earth and PLANT. Natarle knew that if Fllay discovered that Kira had been killed, the chances of the red-haired girl devastated to the point of suicide was high. And if his death would push Fllay to the edge, what would it do to the golden-haired daughter of the Lion of Orb? Natarle had seen the way Cagalli Yula Attha had held Kira in her arms, the words spoken between them reserved only for those who had earned a special place in another's heart.

"How is your crew taking it?" Natarle asked.

"Everyone saw it happen," Mwu said, "Everyone. Cagalli and Athrun - Kira's childhood friend - saw it happen right before their very eyes. Cagalli had to be sedated for a good 24 hours when he brought her in. Jesus Christ...I never thought such a sound could come from a human being. I don't EVER want to hear it again."

"What about Fllay?"

"Fllay was no better. She went into a state of utter paralysis. You remember how she reacted when her father died? This time, her reaction was worse. It took her hours before her mind - like Cagalli's - understood just what had transpired. Kira was never, ever coming back to them. To protect our lives, he paid with his. He stopped the Dominion's attack with Freedom's blast shield, but it wasn't enough. Once that melted, he used Freedom as the shield. When the explosion finally cleared, the Kusanagi, the Eternal and the Archangel blasted the Dominion to atoms."

Natarle shivered at the image that Mwu had presented to her. The mere thought of three capital ships and their escorts of Mobile Suits unleashing a barrage out of hell upon a single target would chill the soul of any on the receiving end. Azrael's agony was brief; the agony he had inflicted on those who would see tomorrow would last forever.

"What happens now?" Natarle was barely able to ask, fearing she was overstepping her boundaries.

"A Memorial Service. We...did our best to search for Kira with a faint hope that he might still be alive. We could not find anything except the wreckage of Freedom. I had been speaking with Murrue on what to do with it when you woke up. The service will be held later this afternoon on the Observation Deck. It is for everyone who had fought and died for the tomorrow we will now live to see. If you're feeling up to it, you can attend."

"Are you sure that that would be appropriate, Mwu? It wasn't that long ago that I was ordered to capture those two nuclear-powered suits and sink the Archangel. To be present at the Service would spark some intense emotions," Natarle replied, refusing to meet the blonde major's eyes.

"Be that as it may," Murrue said, finally regaining some vestige of self-control, "you have a right to attend. I don't know what you think of Kira, but I think you will want a chance to say goodbye to him. But, the choice is yours to make, Natarle. But...if you can, please come.". Natarle did not miss the plea in the brown-haired captain's voice as she stood up and left the infirmary.

Mwu watched Murrue leave, before speaking, an expression akin to shame on his face,"Fllay told us what you did before Kira brought you here, and that had Kira rush off to get you off the Dominion. I asked him why the hell he would risk his life to save you. Do you know what he said? He told me, _'Although Commander Badgiruel is my enemy, I do not hate her. When she had been part of the Archangel's crew, I promised that I would protect both the ship and its crew. Whether you think it is bad idea or not, I will bring her home.'. _I could not answer. I was paralysed. The boy we first met at Heliopolis had changed; I knew this when I saw him after Joshua, but I clearly misjudged how much he had changed," and Mwu paused briefly, "You know, Natarle...I never believed that heroes existed. Ever since my father died, I'd lost my faith in a lot of things. Those heroes I read about in storybooks and novels were just that - stories. I've seen and met many such 'heroes', and they've shown me that even heroes can be fallible. But, in that moment, when I heard Kira speak those words...I believed again. It took me 15 years to find it again."

Natarle was taken aback. The way Mwu had spoken was not the same Mwu la Flaga that Natarle knew to be a stereotypical hotshot pilot with a flippant tongue. But, his words had touched a chord in Natarle's heart. 'Faith' - a word that was synonymous with 'honour', 'duty' and 'oath'. The blonde major got up from the bed, removed the IV, and pulled his jacket over his battered frame.

"Major..." Natarle began.

"I've rested enough, and I've got things I want to take care of. Also, I think you need some time to yourself, Nat. You need time to think things through. Just don't take too long," Mwu said and left the room. Natarle was soon left alone, and her mind drifted back to all the decisions she had made that had led to this moment. While many of the decisions in her life had been monumental, only one would change it more than any other in all her 26 years of life: her first encounter with Kira Yamato.

It was during ZAFT's initial attack that had left most of the Archangel's original crew dead, that she had taken command of the ship and blasted it clear of the hidden space port to reclaim the last surviving G-Weapon - the Strike - before the enemy captured it. ZAFT's Special Forces, no doubt, knew of the new Assault Ship and the G-Weapons that were being developed on Heliopolis. They weren't about to simply turn and leave after blowing up the weapons factory where they were being built. When she managed to get to the Strike, Natarle thanked the powers that be that she had made it in time - and that someone had managed to keep the Strike from being captured or destroyed by the enemy. But, when she saw who had actually piloted the Strike, Natarle had done a double-take. The brown-haired, amethyst-eyed teenager that had stood before her had been the same one that she had seen at the auto-cab stand earlier that day.

It was only when Mwu asked the teenager if he was a Coordinator did it make sense why he had piloted the Strike so well. Natarle felt excited, then, remembering the plans that took shape in her mind. Plans that, now, made her realise just how low she could sink. She had wanted to use Kira like a tool, to be used and discarded when his usefulness had ended. She would have used him in the same way that Azrael had used his Extended, and would have become like him had she not asked the Blue Cosmos leader what he had felt about the war with the Coordinators.

When did she start to change? When...?

Yes. It was during that time, when he had been given a chance to leave the war behind...and chose not to. She knew that his friends choosing to remain abroad the ship had played a part in his decision to remain, but it was not until a rumour made its way around the Archangel's crew that Natarle started to change. A little girl, who would never live to see her homeland again, had given Kira a gift that was worth more than any medal - her thanks, and that of the people he had protected, for all he had done to protect them. That, and a paper flower. Those same rumours also said that when Kira got the paper flower back after the Archangel had landed on Earth, he had broken down. Natarle knew that Kira had two choices, for the war he was a part of had no compassion for the weak or the compassionate: either let the guilt that festered in his heart destroy him, or become stronger.

Kira chose the latter, and proved it by taking the life of the Blitz Gundam's pilot the day the Archangel left Orb for Alaska. Natarle had felt a certain sense of satisfaction as she watched the Blitz explode. Kira was now finally the soldier that she believed would be able to help the Earth Forces bring a swift end to the war.

"I was naive, wasn't I? And blind as well..." Natarle whispered softly to the room. It was something that would cost her dearly, as memories returned of the desperate struggle between the Bloodhawk Elites led that Rau le Creuset commanded and the Archangel. It had only been a few days after the ZAFT Special Forces unit had lost the Blitz, and it had been a vicious running war. Natarle had believed that Kira would fend them off. She was wrong, and the price of that had been the life of a young Tolle Koenig, Kira's friend, as he soared out on the Skygrasper to aid Mwu and Kira in defending the Archangel. They lost Kira minutes later. Even though she knew that there was a possibility that both Kira and his friend might have survived, Natarle had put her foot down and ordered the Archangel to leave the battle-zone or risk fighting the ZAFT forces that were swiftly approaching. She remembered the look on Murrue's face that day; the brown-haired captain would have shot her had she been armed.

It was only when the Archangel reached Alaska, battered, and the morale of its crew rock-bottom, did they get word from Orb rescue teams of the fate of Kira and Tolle. Neither of them survived. Morale, low, sunk even lower, and Natarle remembered in the aftermath of the tribunal the fight that the Archangel's technicians and marines had with some of Alaska's who made some particularly insults about Kira. Even Murdock, the Archangel's chief technician, had been involved. Natarle was surprised; Murdock was a hard man to anger even when shoved. For her part, she suppressed any outward show of remorse. This was a war, she had reasoned, and in wars, people die - civilians and soldiers. To the eyes of the ruling elite, they were nothing more than statistics.

Statistics...? Azrael's Extended were treated as such. They were objects - nothing more, nothing less - to be used to slaughter Coordinators. They fought for the sake of fighting, and died for a tomorrow that would have seen to them discarded, had the Earth Forces won. It was a bitter fate for those who had no yesterday to go back to, and no tomorrow to look forward to. And it was for that tomorrow that Kira fought for. A tomorrow that she would see, paid by Kira's today. Natarle closed her eyes. There was no chance of her being able to apologise, to tell the young Coordinator her true intentions. She had believed that he would be the Perfect Soldier, but he never wanted to be one. It was spoken clearly, but the ones who should have listened didn't. He only wanted to protect those he care for, and Natarle knew that she was not one of those. To tell him that she wanted his help to put an end to the war and so put an end to the deaths caused by it was what she wanted to tell him in a conversation they would have had, had she been willing to cast aside the values inculcated into her by her family.

But, it was too late now. Too late to have a conversation with him, the kind she had had with Murrue Ramius. Too late for so very, many things. If there was emotion that Natarle felt more keenly that than very moment, it was regret.

"I cannot say those words to his face, but I can still say them and hope that they can bring peace to those who knew him," Natarle said as she removed the IV from her arm and tried to get out of bed, ignoring the pain the almost caused her to topple back onto it, "I...can...only hope that they are willing to let me speak."

Natarle swung her uniform jacket over her lithe, battered frame and reached for the nearby crutches. She had made her decision. Murrue was right. She had to go to the Memorial or do a disservice to Kira's memory. Natarle gritted her teeth, fighting back the pain and dizziness, thankful that the zero-g environment of the Archangel made matters easier. The infirmary's door hissed open and the Dominion's commander made her way to where the service was being held. As Natarle did so, fragments of the conversation she had had with Kira as he carried her towards Freedom returned to her, vivid and clear, forever blasted into her memory from that day forth.

_**"How did you get here...? Why did you come?" **_she had asked him, her voice hoarse with pain.

_**"The Dominion is the same as the Archangel, so I knew how to bypass the security codes that allowed me to open the hangar doors. As to why I came...I believe that no matter how bad things get or how hard we wish to change the past and undo our wrongs, that tomorrow will be better than today. We are all searching for that hope, Commander Badgiruel..."**_

_**"Everyone searches for it, Kira...but that does not answer the question. Why did you save me? I was sent to kill you and destroy the Archangel? I am your enemy..."**_

_**"Those three ships - the Kusanagi, the Eternal, and the Archangel - have taught me one very important lesson. Tomorrow will be better than the today we leave behind. I promised to protect the Archangel so that everyone on it can see that tomorrow. You are part of that crew, Commander Badgiruel...so no matter what you say, you are going home alive. Besides, you've taught me an important lesson yourself," **_Kira said as Freedom shot out of the Dominion.

_**"And what is that?"**_

_**"Honour. You have showed me that people like you are needed in this world, not as martyrs, but as teachers. When you made the decision to stop fighting the Archangel, you made the decision to protect everyone on it. You did not care what happened afterwards. And if you could make that decision, then that means that I can as well. I chose to save you. Your eyes are now open, Commander Badgiruel...which means you can show others what you have finally seen."**_

Natarle coughed hard, and stained her bandaged hand red with blood. But it was not the pain that brought the commander of the Dominion to her knees, it was the pain that scorched her soul that did so.

_'I'll do my best, Kira. I will do my best to make sure that the world you fought for will not be destroyed by those who choose to remain blind. I swear it...' _Natarle said inwardly. She had a second chance, one that she knew she did not deserve, and she was not about to waste it. For the memory of the one who had opened her eyes, she would take up his battered, shining shield and be there for those who needed help to recover from the sorrow of the ended war.

_**'For your tomorrow, I will give you my today.'**_

_**X X X X X X**_

Three days.

But those three days since the war ended, but to the red-haired girl, hers had only just begun. As she looked back, she thought of those whose presence gave stability to her world. The first to die, giving birth to her, had been her mother. Then, her father would perish as he came to bring his daughter home. And finally, she lost the one person who was more than her tool for vengeance against those who had murdered her father. That one person would do so much and ask for almost nothing in return. And though he was of the race that killed her father, he would forever stand out amongst them in her memories.

It was a bitter lesson, and Fllay saw the full extent of the price as the Archangel's technicians loaded the blackened wreckage of what was left of the Freedom into the hangar bay hours before. She had heard rumours of the Freedom beforehand, most of it regarding the nuclear generator that granted it more power than all the previous Gundam models which operated on batteries. The fact that much of the suit had survived a direct hit by the Dominion's main guns was surprising. The Freedom's mid-section had been blasted away, and its left arm and right leg had been vapourised. Much of its head was still intact, but separate from the rest of the body. Fllay wondered off-handedly just how long it would take for the mobile suit to be repaired. She quashed the thought immediately, knowing that no other save its original pilot would be worthy to ride it.

Fllay let out a small smile then, realising that every single thought that was in her mind involved Kira in one form or another. In the beginning, she had wanted Kira's world to revolve around her, so that he would do what she wanted him to do. But, as time passed, that changed. He became hers, throwing her well-conceived plan of vengeance upon the Coordinators into utter disarray. The red-haired girl could remember with perfect clarity the desperate edge in Kira's voice when the latter screamed out her name.

The hope that suddenly erupted from her heart when she heard his voice was so intense that it hurt. That hope was something that Fllay wanted with every fibre of her being, even though she knew it was something she did not deserve. But, now...it was gone forever, and the realization that so many things that have been left unsaid, caused tears to spill, her shaking sobs echoing in the now-silent hangar bay.

"I'm sorry, but are you Fllay Allster...?" a voice called out, causing Fllay to turn about, wiping her eyes as she did so. An unfamiliar young man with blue hair and a very familiar golden-haired girl with golden eyes stand several feet away from her. What was she doing here...? Never mind, there was time enough to find out later.

"Yes, I am," Fllay replied, "Is there something...?"

"What was my brother to you?" Cagalli Yula Attha asked, her leonine eyes flashing, before Athrun could voice the question that had been on the tip of his tongue.

Fllay hesitated, wrong-footed. What was she talking about? Her brother...? Who was she...? Fllay looked in Athrun's directions, hoping that he would understand what the golden-haired girl was talking about.

"What she means, Miss Allster," Athrun said, putting a hand on Cagalli's shoulder in a bid to keep her calm,"is what did Kira mean to you."

The question made sense then, and it wrong-footed Fllay a second time in 15 seconds. Kira was Cagalli's brother?

"What do you mean? I...I don't understand," Fllay said, her thought processes now utterly shot by the revelation.

"You don't understand?" Cagalli's tone was biting, causing Fllay to dread the words that would spill from from the princess's lips, "That idiot brother of mine was too gentle for his own good, loyal to those he care for - and that brings me to the question I want answered."

Fllay tried her best to keep her voice even in the face of Cagalli's fury, "And what question will that be?"

"What was it that Kira saw in you that would make him risk his life to save yours?" Cagalli's voice was like thunder in the hangar-bay.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't give me that innocent girl act!" Cagalli all but screamed, "I spoke with Sai Argyle earlier, and do you know what he told me? He told me that when you lost your father, you blamed Kira for his death. You said that he did less than his best in that fight because he was fighting against his fellow Coordinators. And before that, when you were face to face with Lacus Clyne, you openly displayed anti-Coordinator sentiments that I have only heard from those who are or agreed with the Blue Cosmos," and the golden-haired girl's fist clenched so tightly that it cracked, "When did that change? Shall I jog your memory? It was only after your father died and you enlisted into the EA did your view of him changed - and rather openly, I might add. You used him, bitch."

Fllay flinched, and tried to reply, but Cagalli pressed on, her wrath overwhelming her reason, "You dragged him into the war, forced him to fight to avenge your father, killing him by inches, so that you could get back at them. You didn't care for him at all."

"You're wrong!" Fllay cried, "Kira meant a lot to me. Everytime he got into that machine to fight, my stomach would..." and a sharp crack across her face silenced her.

"Don't lie to me, bitch! I am not stupid! It wasn't difficult for me to put the pieces together to get the entire story. You saw him as a tool, to be used and discarded. You and the commander of the Dominion are no different from one another!"

Fllay reeled from the blow. She could feel a bruise starting to form without even needing to look in the mirror. She turned her grey eyes to meet the other girl's, words of denial on her lips, but the look in the golden, leonine eyes of the latter silenced her. In them was a sorrow and pain so crippling that Fllay knew all too well.

"Why?" Cagalli asked, "Why did he save you? Why did he save the Dominion's commander? The both of you betrayed him. Why? I want to know. The reason that that kind-hearted fool was just that is not good enough for me. When I first laid eyes on the both of you, I knew that you had agendas on my brother - you more than that Earth Force commander. I know your type; I've seen and dealt with people like you before, but Kira clearly hadn't. He was a fool, a sweet fool who loved those he cared about. But, clearly, despite the time together, you never saw it, did you? Both in and out of bed?"

"H..How...did you...?"

"Know? I am not deaf. I overheard your talk with Sai the night you told him that you spent the night with Kira. It wasn't hard to figure out what happened between the two of you then. Death is too good for you, bitch. I hope you're proud of what you've done," Cagalli spat as she stormed off, leaving Athrun and Fllay alone in the hangar bay. The second let out a long sigh as he watched the first leave. The pain would take a long time to heal, Athrun knew, if it ever did.

"I apologise, Miss Allster," Athrun began, "It looks like she needs more time to get over it than she had given herself."

"She's not the only one," Fllay replied, touching the bruise on her cheek. Cagalli's blow had almost dislocated her jaw.

"Anyway, before Cagalli interrupted, I wanted to ask you a question," Athrun said, a serious look on his face.

"If it involves a slap to my face, that girl has already beaten you to it," Fllay said tightly.

"No...it will not involve that, Miss Allster. What I want to know, as Cagalli has stated, is why was Kira so focused on protecting both you and Captain Badgiruel?"

Fllay hesitated, confusion marring her features, "What do you mean?"

"Kira kept going on and on about how you two were the people he needed to protect. At first, I took it at face value. Kira was never one to lie. But when Cagalli and I spoke to Sai Argyle and Miriallia Haww - they're friends of yours, right? - that the pieces fell into place."

"Go on," Fllay said, knowing where the conversation was going.

"Both of them said that Captain Badgiruel was the only person who wanted Kira to stay aboard the ship when he had the chance to leave back then. She had strongly opposed the idea of releasing him even though there was nothing in which she could prevent otherwise.Also, I heard the reason that he stayed was because of you. Primarily _**because**_ of _**you**_," and Athrun's eyes narrowed as he emphasised the two words, "In the beginning, the reasons you gave were a lie. So tell me, with all this in mind, why did he save both you and the Dominion's captain? I want to know just as badly as Cagalli does. And I know that Kira knows the answers to these questions, but he would never tell me."

"How would you know what he would have thought?" Fllay asked.

Athrun lowered his head, allowing his bangs to cover his eyes, "I should. Kira was my childhood friend. And a decade later, when Heliopolis was destroyed, and when I met him amidst its ruins, he would become my enemy."

_'Friend? Enemy? Wait a minute! He's a former ZAFT pilot...! He can't be the one I heard about!' _"You...you're the one that stole the Aegis Gundam and were part of the team that pursued the Archangel ever since Heliopolis was destroyed, weren't you? You were the one that killed Tolle. Tolle was Kira's friend for over five years and you killed him...!" Fllay choked, unable to believe that the young man before her was the same person who had sought to sink to Archangel, killed Tolle, and fought alongside them even though he knew what he had done.

"Kira killed mine, and he was my friend when I first moved back to PLANT and eventually joined ZAFT," Athrun replied, trembling as the faces of his friends, smiling and happy, took shape in his mind, "But, I digress. Tell me what was it that made Kira use all of his strength to save you and the Dominion's captain, considering the history the three of you had."

"Why do you care? You say you are his friend, but every time you and your team-mates from the Bloodhawk Elites came into contact with this ship, you did everything you could to sink it. How can you say that you are his friend when you are trying to kill him and those he is trying to protect?" Fllay asked sharply.

"Cagalli said the exact same thing, and the only thing I can say is that I don't have any answers to give. I followed orders for what I believed was for the good of my people, but even now I don't know why I did what I did," Athrun said quietly.

Fllay turned away, then, her eyes narrowing, "If that is your reason, then between the two of us, you are more of a traitor than I am."

Athrun flinched upon hearing those words, before stating that he had made his peace with Kira before the latter perished. The only thing that concerned him was whose side Natarle and Fllay were on, an answer that the last stated in an acid tone that such 'sides' no longer exist as the war was already over.

"I'm not like Kira, and neither is Cagalli, when the both of us are outside a mobile suit. Kira may have seen something in the both of you that made him willing to save you, but I agree with Cagalli in that I do not see it. From what I have learnt of you, you have shown that you never believed in anything but yourself and yet Kira saw something that no one else did. I'm starting to believe Cagalli's assessment that when Kira looked at you, his ability to think was hampered because the brain that was thinking was not the one in his head."

Now it was Fllay's turn to visibly flinch, and she turned about to face Athrun once more, and when she spoke, her voice was hoarse with torment, "You may say you know Kira, but you know nothing about me or how I feel. I've made mistakes and made choices that I wish I can undo, and the only ones I truly want to right are the ones with him. But as you can see...I can no longer do that!"

"No, you no longer can," Athrun agreed, his voice icy, "But did you ever consider the possibility that you may have had a hand in digging his grave and engraving his name on his tombstone after everything was said and done? Then again, like Cagalli said, you never made an effort to know him. All you knew was his name, that he was a Coordinator, and that he was the perfect instrument to make my people pay in blood for your father's death."

Fllay was paralysed, and for several moments, was unable to speak. What could she possibly say? The memories in her mind did much to silence Fllay's protests as well, until one memory, clearer than all the rest, surfaced.

"That little girl..." she started.

"Excuse me?" Athrun's attention was captured by that one sentence.

"When the Archangel had first landed on Earth and Kira had recovered from his injuries from the battle in orbit, I brought him something that a mechanic had found in the Strike's cockpit. It was a paper flower that a little girl had made for him as a thank-you present. Kira shivered for several seconds before he finally took it from me," Fllay said, remembering the look on the brown-haired Coordinator's face, instants before he broke down. Even though it had been months ago, the sound of it was enough to make the girl's heart ache. If anguish could be manifested in a single sound...then that sound would be it.

"Kira couldn't stand the thought of how he had failed to protect that little girl. How he managed to reach the shuttle only to see it destroyed before his very eyes," Fllay finished, "To fail a second time, the first being when your team killed my father, was devastating to him."

Athrun put on a perplexed, to give the red-haired girl an impression that he had no idea what she was saying...but he knew all to well what she was talking about. He remembered that day when his team and a second squadron made another attempt to take down the Archangel, but the fact that it had linked up with the Earth Alliance's 8th Fleet had made the task all the more difficult. Yzak had been hell-bent during that battle to take the Strike down, to the point that when a shuttle had interfered in their duel, he destroyed it. Athrun had thought, during that time, that Yzak had destroyed a troop transport, but clearly that hadn't been the case.

Fllay wrapped her arms around her body, trying to ward away a chill that a sun could not dispel. She closed her eyes, trying to tune out the rest of the world, to drive away the memory of Kira in pain, but the words he had spoken to her when the Archangel had docked in Orb came back to haunt her. It was surprising that how so few words can carry such tremendous weight; words that could break anyone, no matter who they were.

And then...something dormant, sleeping quietly within the red-haired girl, awoke. Like a lightning bolt striking a metal pole, Fllay felt her senses sharpen, felt her thought processes becoming faster, quicker, and strength flood into every cell in her body. And though her emotions howled like a hurricane, the one feeling that she had no name that had crystallised within her was its calm eye - serene and unyielding. She would never know until much, much later that this was a gift that her beloved had, a gift that he had inadvertently given to her. He had told her about it, but she had all but forgotten about it - until now.

"I do not know if what I have told you is the answer you hoped for. Now, please leave me alone. There is no longer any reason for us to continue talking," Fllay said, as she turned her back on Athrun. The blue-haired Coordinator didn't say anything more; he had the answer to his question and, whether it was the right one or not, did not wish to pursue the matter any further. Athrun turned to leave the hangar bay, leaving Fllay once again alone with the charred, blackened remains of the steel angel that had brought an end to the war.

But, now, with the newborn sight granted to her, Fllay Allster saw everything in a different perspective. The Freedom was more than a machine of war, she realised. It represented an ideal that had never died.

"Was this what you saw, Kira? Was this vision what gave you the will to do all that you did?" Fllay asked the silent darkness.

"We can only guess what he saw, but we do know what he had hoped for," a familiar voice spoke from the darkness. Fllay jumped, as she returned to a state more human than she had been earlier, as she faced the speaker. Her eyes widened as she recognised the badly-battered figure of Commander Natarle Badgiruel. Fllay was amazed to see that the commander of the Dominion was still able to walk, considering the fact that she had been shot several times.

"Captain Badgiruel. I thought you were still resting from your wounds," Fllay nodded to her in greeting.

"After everything we've been through, I don't think I can sleep easily without suffering any nightmares. And from what I've heard minutes ago in your conversation with the pilot of the Aegis - Athrun, I believe was his name, am I correct? - I think you're in the same position as I am. We've both done things that we're both ashamed of, and we must make amends for it."

"They don't know the whole story," Fllay replied, "and it doesn't seem that they want to either. Natarle..." and Fllay's voice shook, "What do I do now? I...I feel so empty. I have nothing to go back to, nothing to hope for, and no one to return to."

The dark-haired commander of the Dominion did not speak for a long while, trying to find words that would ease the pain of the younger girl before her. "Maybe not now...but there was someone who did," and Natarle turned her gaze on the Freedom, "and knowing that he did gives you," _'us', _"something to believe in and hope for. At least for now, it is enough."

With some doubts still lingering in her mind, Fllay turned and faced the Freedom, "Do you believe what you've just said, Natarle?"

"I do. He gave us the chance to have a future that we _can_ believe in. A future where we're no longer blind and where we can finally make right all the wrongs we have done. It is a second chance that he gave us, Fllay. I, for one, will not waste it," Natarle said, her voice firm with conviction. Fllay nodded, the words soothing the torment in her soul if only for but a moment. Wiping the tears from her face, she asked the dark-haired commander what will happen next as they strode towards the hangar's exit.

"There is a Memorial Service taking place latter this afternoon. We may not be welcomed to it, but I'm gonna go no matter what the others think. Will you come?" Natarle asked. Fllay closed her eyes, trying to bring back the memory of Kira's face, trying to imagine what he would say to her in this situation. Her conversation with Athrun and Cagalli, whether it had been their intention or otherwise, had helped her understand better the kind of person Kira had been. It did not take her long to make up her mind.

"I'll go with you. I...don't want to go. I don't want to believe what I'll see there...but if I don't go, I may end up regretting for the rest of my life," Fllay said.

Natarle nodded. She knew how painful going to the Memorial Service would be for both of them, but to do so alone was akin to walking in a forest without a map. Only together would they be able to weather the storm. As Fllay walked up to Natarle, she took one last look at the wreckage of the Angel that had portrayed an undying dream...a dream she would resurrect and keep safe. Then, she turned to face Natarle, and the woman's dark purple eyes met hers, and the conviction she saw there mirrored her own.

"For Kira," Fllay said.

"For Kira," Natarle echoed.

And then, the two women left, and silent darkness once more reigned in the hangar.

_**X X X X X X**_

The entire region where the GENESIS had was heavy with debris left in the aftermath of the titanic conflict that had taken place three days prior, and several ships bearing the colours of ZAFT were busy doing the worst job that could be given to any man and woman of the uniform - collecting the bodies of the dead so that they could be identified and given a proper burial. One ship among the five that had been assigned the task had been pulling triple-shifts in an attempt to finish combing through its assigned sector as soon as possible.

The recovery's crew modus operanti consisted of two crewmen, both of whom piloted mobile suits, being paired up with a single recovery shuttle with a crew of seven that was used to gather and store the bodies. It was not an easy task for those who undertook the assignment. Pulling in a body, some of which were missing limbs or were less than whole, from zero-g and putting them in a steel container had sickened each of them, no matter how many times they saw it.

"Damn it, Johnston! How much longer do we have to be out here? I'm seriously, seriously starting to get creeped out by seeing all these peoples' frozen faces," a ZAFT soldier in a spacesuit said as he put the body of another ZAFT pilot into a steel container before pushing it hard in the direction of the shuttle where one of his team-mates caught hold of it and brought it into the shuttle, _'Jesus...'_ the soldier thought, _'that one was just a kid...'_

"Twenty more minutes, Shawn," came the reply from one of the GINNs, "Believe me, I don't like being out here any more than you do. I've lost count of how many bags I've had to use to toss my cookies."

"Shut up! You're not making this any easier!" Shawn shouted back, shaking his fist at the GINN before turning back to his current task, "Remind me to never volunteer for this kind of work ever again. This shit is enough to give anyone nightmares, hard-ass SOB or no."

Shawn's team-mate, Carzus, came upon another body, this one stuck in what had once been the cockpit of a mobile suit, "Found another one. Poor bastard. Probably didn't see it coming..."

"What is it, Carzus? Did you find something disgusting again? If you did, DO NOT tell me about it! I can still see the guy we found crushed the last time!" Johnston shouted through the comm-link.

No reply.

"Carzus? Hey, Carzus! What's going on? You okay, man?" Johnston's voice held an edge of worry.

"Johnny? What's wrong?" came Shawn's voice.

"I cannot raise Carzus."

Shawn tried to raise his friend. No reply. They tried again, to no avail, and Johnston told Shawn to go to where Carzus was to see if he was alright. Before the second could do so, their comm-link came alive, and Carzus was all but shouting into it," Get over here, quick! We've got a live one!"

Their worry transformed immediately into shock.

"You're shittin' me! How can anyone still be alive out here?!" Shawn yelled back as he used his spacesuit's boosters to propel himself in the direction where Carzus was.

"Don't know, don't care! Get your ass over here, Shawn! Lina, you read? Get the shuttle over here, pronto! Johnston, get the _Ianthe_ on the wire and tell them we've got a live one!"

"Hold on, boys. Coming in now," came the voice of the recovery shuttle's pilot.

Johnston, likewise, didn't ask questions and immediately contacted the _Ianthe_. When they asked for the identity of the survivor, Johnston relayed the question to Carzus.

"Don't know! Doesn't look like he's from ZAFT, and he's way too young to be with the Earth Forces. Barely out of his teens by the looks of it. He's probably a pilot from that ship that got away from Orb before the EA attacked them," Carzus replied as he searched for any clue to the young pilot's identification, and recoiled as his hand came away crimson, "Oh, bloody Hell! Lina! Have Gaston get a medi-kit and anti-coagulants ready! This guy has lost a lot of blood!"

The dark crimson of his space-suit had not been the suits normal colour, Carzus realised. His body must have torn up inside without tearing through the space-suit's tough fabric. Shawn, hearing his friend's panicked cry, fed more power into the back-mounted boosters of his spacesuit and, within seconds, was helping his friend get the badly-injured pilot out of the wreckage.

"Alright," Johnston said, as the recovery shuttle stopped next to his GINN, "Our pals on the ship knows the situation and they got the medical bay prepped. We'll get this guy back to the ship first. His identity we can figure out later."

Shawn and Carzus carried the young pilot to the shuttle before they took a closer look at him. It was evident from their observations earlier that he wasn't from ZAFT, nor was he any of its higher-ranking officers who were allowed to wear a colour different from their troops to make them instantly recognisable. The only thing that was recognisable on his face was a cross-shaped scar over his left eye.

"Maybe when he wakes up, he'll be able to tell us who he is," Shawn said.

"Whoever he is, he is definitely the luckiest son of a bitch alive," Carzus replied as the shuttle's air-lock decompressed, and he quickly used his combat knife to rip open the spacesuit, and removed his helmet, "He should have died from the blood loss alone!" and when he pulled the space-suit apart, went white. Shawn fought to hold down his bile, mouthing a prayer. Lina's co-pilot, Gaston, rushed in and he, too, turned pale.

"Oh, holy Christ...!" Gaston said, his voice shaking. Gaston had a pair of children the same age as the broken, bleeding teenager that now laid before him. He never wanted them to get involved in the war, and had seen to it that they got posts within the medical arm of ZAFT despite their protests. He didn't want to one day hear that they had died in battle. Steely discipline quickly clamped down on his horror and revulsion, and he rushed towards the teenager's torn body.

"Hey, Carzus," Shawn said, forcing his friend to turn his eyes away from the human ruin that was before them, "how did you know that the guy was alive anyway?"

"He...he was moaning. I would have pegged him for d...dead, if I didn't hear him make a sound," Carzus said, trying to keep his voice steady and his eyes off the scene before him.

"What sound was that?" Shawn tried to keep his tone conversational, "Was it a groan of pain or something?"

"That ain't it. It sounded like he was trying to say a name. Sounded like 'Frey' or something close to it. Not entirely sure, but that was proof enough to me that he was still alive."

Shawn let out a laugh, albeit one that was forced, "Well, if he's strong enough to say a name after being found inside space junk after 3 days, then those injuries are not gonna kill him. He's got the guts and the will to live. And if he was here, in this area of space, where the fighting was hot as Hell three days ago..."

"Now that makes me want to know who this guy really is. I really hope he turns out to be a friend. I don't wanna' end up being his enemy..." Carzus said.

"Agreed," Shawn said, as their eyes drifted back as Gaston tried to stabilise the injured teenager's broken body, "Because nobody can survive something like this without a helluva lot of willpower."

Only in time would their answers - and everyone else's - be answered in full. The journey to have them would be far from easy for those who sought them out. Unfortunately, the injured young man would never be able to make that journey. As strong as he was to have survived so long in the cold void with such terrible wounds, his will to live gave way even as the shuttle's on-board medic tried to stabilise him with all the skills he had. His final word as his heart beat its last, from blood-stained lips, was as clear as the stars that shone outside the shuttle.

"Fllay..."

And Gaston pulled the young boy's brown-haired head close to his chest, crying quietly, as his two companions lowered their heads.

_**X X X X X X**_

In a sacrosanct place that few have ever seen and fewer have ever trod upon, a lone figure tends to a majestic garden as he has done through countless lifetimes. Many would see this as an eccentric hobby or a lifetime chore, tending to this garden that no ordinary hand or machine could create and maintain. But to this one being, it is a penance as it had been there when such a place had been destroyed, and it was because of him that it had been ruined. For decades beyond counting, the massive, armoured figure walked the vast landscape and meticulously tends to each and every life that grows from the reddish soil beneath its armoured feet. Though it had taken a long time, the effort taken to make a myth a reality was finally coming to fruition. The only task left was to ensure that this new Garden does not meet the same fate as the one that came before it.

And to do that, the figure needed the aid of those Beasts who had once guarded Paradise. How long will it take before he finally tamed the remainder? He did not know, but he needed their godly strength or all of his works would be undone. His enemies - the enemies of this Paradise he was trying to rebuild - were mighty, bearing powers that were the antithesis of those Sacred Beasts of Heaven. If he can gather them, their power would be broken and Eden would be reborn.

It had taken a long, long time, but he now had the Dragon, the Falcon, the Serpent, the Turtle, the Fox and the Wolf with him. Six of the Ten Sacred Beasts. Only four remained, and finding them proved to be a far more difficult endeavour that he had anticipated. But he was not surprised - the Lion, the Tiger, the Phoenix and the Eagle had never been the easiest of the Sacred Beasts to find OR tame. But before his plan to resurrect Paradise could be carried out, he needed to complete the Circle.

As soon as the issue made itself known in his mind, one of his retainers, whose responsibility was to inform his master of certain events regarding the outside world, strode up to him as one would when addressing a sovereign regarding a sensitice matter.

"My Lord, I bring you news from our servants within the ranks of ZAFT and the Earth Forces," the smaller, armoured figure said as he knelt before the larger form of his superior. The latter never once turned to face the smaller form of his servant as his attention was focused on tending to one of the plants, but it was clear to the retainer that his master was listening.

"The war between them is over. A cease-fire agreement has been reached. However, the GENESIS gun has been destroyed before it could deliver the final blow against Terra. It will take some time, but both ZAFT and the Earth Army will be back at full strength with 14 months. We must re-adjust parts of our plan to take that into consideration."

While still tending to a single plant that man saw was having trouble growing, he spoke to his servant, the masculine-modulated voice emerging from the blue-and-white helm where a massive, soft mane of snow-blonde erupted from, "What of our servants? How many did we lose?"

"Final reports have indicated that we have lost a considerable number of our centurions among both the Earth Forces and ZAFT. However, those numbers can be replaced, given a few months. Unfortunately, we've just received word that those losses are nothing compared to the fact that the Serpent has been slain in battle."

"What? The Serpent was killed in battle? How accurate is this report?"

"Very, my lord. He was killed before the GENESIS was destroyed. From what our servants have seen, he was defeated in battle."

"Who defeated him? Surely it wasn't the one called the Hawk of Endymion?"

"Not him, my Lord. The one who defeated him was the Lion."

The answer had the man standing at his imposing ten-foot and facing his retainer in a heartbeat. He could tell, in an instant, that his servant was not lying. "The Serpent had promised to deliver the Lion to our side after he informed us that he was still alive. What exactly happened that cause the Serpent to fail in his mission?"

"From what I could gather, the Lion's loyalty was the cause. Even though the Serpent had shown the Lion proof that he was - and never could be - a part of their race, the latter was not swayed in the least."

A sound akin to a sigh emerged from the armoured figure, "Lions are the embodiment of pride and strength. Things never go the way anyone plans when pride comes into the picture. To fill the places of the Dragon, the Wolf and the Falcon was a monumental task. Getting the Lion to _join_ us is going a headache - especially since the Serpent is dead."

"Unfortunately, Lord, that is not all. Not long after the Serpent was killed and his body vaporized, the Lion returned to the people that held his loyalty and was slain defending them. His body was vaporised in the sneak attack launched by Murata Azrael."

The armoured giant was silent for a long time, before he finally spoke, "It seems that it had been a mistake to allow the Secretary-General of the Blue Cosmos to move around freely after all. And here I thought that he could actually prove to be an asset in one form or another. After all this time, our race remains as unpredictable as ever. It's amusing to think that we have changed at all...or that we ever will."

"Very true, my Lord."

The armoured giant knelt down and tended to the plant he had been seeing to minutes ago, before rising and walking towards the massive edifice that stood in the distance. If one were to take the time needed for the two of them to walk across the field, then anyone would have found it impossible that one man had made this verdant paradise a reality. But, the smaller figure knew that his master had done the impossible, and could understand his desire to protect it.

"Despite the ill-news that we have received, my Lord, I do have some good ones. We were able to learn the identities of the Tiger, the Eagle and the Phoenix. This was sent to us by the Serpent just prior to his death. It seems that he foresaw the possibility that he would fall in battle, and had ensured that what he learnt would not die with him," the servant said, opening the necessary files on the data-slate before handing it to his master. The armoured figure studied it. The first part of the report was regarding the Heavenly Eagle. Eyes behind the armoured helm widened briefly; the girl that stared back at him from the data-slate was young. But, the man knew from long experience that nothing was as it seems - a lesson he had learnt to take to heart.

He scrolled down to the next part of the report. Where the first part had surprised him briefly, the second caught his attention. The armoured figure came to a halt, and read the entire segment again, before indicating the section to his retainer, "This cannot be right. The Serpent would not have sent us false information on a matter of such importance. Did the signal that carried this degrade when you received it?"

"No, my Lord. It's accurate."

"So...the Divine Phoenix is nothing more than an ignorant child. The Serpent must have seen something while she was in his custody in order to make that assessment; otherwise, he would have known we would have seen this as a bad joke or a temporary loss of sanity on his part. So be it. Take steps to enlighten this child, then. We cannot afford the loss of time and effort should the Serpent's judgement prove to be wrong."

"It is already being done, my Lord," the servant replied.

Before the armoured giant scrolled to the final part of the report, he thought to himself that it was appropriate that the one chosen to be the Divine Phoenix had hair the colour of flames. There was something more than this girl than anyone would have ever believed, he knew, and her eyes showed the potential that had yet to awaken. Upon finishing the report, something became clear to the armoured giant. The one who would become the Heavenly Tiger was more mature than the Divine Eagle or the Phoenix, but the fact that she was young was a minor detail. By God, most of the Sacred Beasts WERE young. However, unlike the Eagle, the Heavenly Tiger shared a similar connection that the Phoenix had with the Lion. A quick look through the Heavenly Tiger's personal data brought up a side note that made the report all the more interesting.

The Serpent mentioned the only reason why it had been easier to find the Phoenix and the Tiger when compared to finding the others. It would seem that, for one reason or another, the Lion of Heaven had somehow given a part of himself to the other two. In time, both the Phoenix and the Tiger would have awoken to their full potential, but this one paragraph turned what could have been a massive delay into one that was within tolerable limits. Eight, no, Nine of the Ten Sacred Beasts. He had just the right person in mind to replace the late Divine Serpent. Would it be enough...? The Circle was not complete, and to find and create another Heavenly Lion would give his enemies the time they needed to thwart his designs. If he acted now, only minor adjustments to the plan would be needed to cleanse the Earth Sphere of the mutants and heretics that infested it.

The giant smiled within his armoured helm as he returned the data-slate to his retainer. The plan would be made all the more difficult with the Heavenly Lion absent, but at this point in time, the giant felt the elation of uncounted centuries of labour finally coming close to completion. From here on until the plan came full circle, each step would have to be planned meticulously and executed ruthlessly. It had been a long, long, long time since the giant had taken a direct hand in his plans, preferring that his retainers do his will. But, no more.

Too many things were being left to chance - and when one throws in the unpredictability that humanity was legendary for throughout the galaxy, the end result could mean that either he or his garden would be destroyed. He no longer cared what would happen to him anymore, but he refused to let his work be undone. As the giant's mind ran over the countless scenarios that the future might bring, his servant received a call from an operative working within ZAFT. What the giant's retainer heard from the latter caused his face to shift to one of total shock. Even his master was curious as to what could question his servant, but before he could ask the question, the latter cut him off.

"The Lion of Heaven can be resurrected..."

_**To be continued...**_


	3. Chapter 2

_**Gundam SeeD Destiny: Lion of Heaven**_

_**Original idea and story by Kouryuo Sabre**_

_**Re-written by Spiritblade**_

_**Disclaimer: **_GS and GSD isn't mine. Even this story isn't mine, but I'm borrowing it, and am crediting it to its original creator who, even now, fights hard to complete it. Give him a hand and your support, ladies and gentlemen. It's a good thing to have an ambition worth the hard work, sweat and tears, isn't it?

Threw in a bit of Baldur's Gate 2, and some of its key characters as well. Loved them, and love it still.

Now, on with the story. You didn't come here to hear Kouryuo or I talk, did you now?

_**X X X X X X**_

_The Cathedral of Seraphs stood amidst the snow-covered, ghost-haunted ruins of a city he had laid to waste. The streets were littered with the skeletal forms of men, women and children who had desperately tried to find shelter from the vengeful angels that rained destruction down upon them. Over a million souls glared at him in utter loathing, as they looked upon a man who may well be the greatest traitor in the history of their race. He could hear their soft voices despite the howling winds, cursing him for his betrayal of the very cause he had once championed._

_He paused and knelt down beside a pair of skeletons, one of them smaller than the other. No doubt a parent and her child. Held in the small hands of the latter was a small stuffed owl, its grey and white fur untouched by the holocaust that had made her home a graveyard. The man picked it up, running his armoured fingers over the soft toy gently._

**Wish upon a star,**

**Take a step through Heaven's Gate.**

_He could almost hear the little girl's soft voice, asking him why he had killed her and destroyed her home and killed her friends and family. He could almost hear her telling him that she had planned to visit her friend's home to see the newborn kittens her friend's pet cat had given birth to. The hero, he heard her voice speak, her mother told her stories about had died. His enemies - his real enemies - had killed him in the cruellest way imaginable._

_He froze, suddenly, and he whirled about, his sword drawn. Lightning crackled down the ancient Outrage weapon, causing the man's amber eyes to blaze with insane ferocity. He held the soft toy close to his heart, in the same way the girl had held it to hers as her mother fought to get them both to safety. They emerged from the shadows, the eyeslits of their helms blazing with righteous fury. He could see the emblems of crosses and wings on their ornately-worked armour and the white-hot blades of plasma swords. His former masters must truly want him dead. These men and women were the absolute elite of the Order._

**No matter how near or far,**

**To a place, delivered there by the hand of Fate.**

_And the sheer sight of them brought out a tsunami of hate and loathing. The emblems that adorned their armour spoke of oaths unspoken and devotion to a righteous cause - a cause that had cast him aside and into the Abyss for his loyalty. The man did not hesitate. The Beast within him broke free, and he charged forward, covering the distance between them in a heartbeat, his torn, red robes fluttering like broken wings. _

_For every life lost on that terrible day, he would pay out his former masters._

**Beneath a sunset of blood,**

**Under the Tree of Eternity.**

_The first Holy Templar was sent sailing, his heavy, armoured form cut in half. Blood stained his killer, who leapt towards his compatriot who raised his gun, only to find his weapon - and his hands - cut in half. A reverse stroke sent his body crashing to the ground, headless. His compatriot, a woman, leapt foward, stabbing forward with her crackling battle-claws._

**I will sing for you,**

**And my voice will light the way.**

_The Bloody Angel side-stepped and cut through her lightly-armoured body in mid-air. He glanced down briefly to the toy he cradled against his heart. Not a single drop of blood marred its innocent perfection. He smiled, and turned to face his remaining assailants. Several of them raised their gauss pistols and unleashed a furious barrage in his direction._

**I will pray for you,**

**For the day, your anger will fade away.**

_**Chapter 2**_

_**Two years later**_

_**Dreams and memories**_

_**The Fiery Angel**_

_**Why is it that whenever one war ends, another one just like it is always on the horizon? Even though no one dares to say it aloud, the war that comes after is the exact same kind as the one before. Though it took several years for tensions to reach critical mass - to many, myself included - it was as if it happened overnight. I can still remember the day I was training to be a Mobile Suit pilot and the day I received my first official mission. I was to meet up with an old friend to see that very same mission through.**_

_**It has been a long time, yet it feels as if it were only yesterday when we parted ways. But, I'm going ahead of myself. The mission I was assigned was to deal with two extremists factions that did not wish to let go of old hatreds. They wanted to continue a war that threatened those who only wanted to forget and move on. **_

_**Dealing with them is easier said than done. Even though I was assigned under Captain Badgiruel - the higher-ups in the Alliance were aware that we were friends - they also knew that this mission would require greater strength than Natarle or I have within us. Natarle's strength comes in the form of renewed conviction; mine comes in the form of the newly-forged Avenger Phoenix. From the ashes of Gundam Freedom was the Avenger Phoenix born - different in flesh, but born of the strength, hope and faith that Kira had inspired when he rode out in the Freedom.**_

_**In the beginning, Kira had made it clear that he never wanted to be the pilot for the Strike. As time passed, he piloted it out of the honest desire to protect those he cared about. But, there was a reason behind that desire...a reason that Natarle and I know, and that we now share with him as a result of our blind ignorance. Penance drove him, to right a wrong that can never be undone. It was the merciless judge in his heart that spurred him to fight harder, staking his life for the sake of an idea that was folly in a time when hate made more sense than reason.**_

_**Kira's trial by fire began when he failed to save a little girl. Ours began when we failed to do what was right and watched him suffer for our mistakes. I think that that is the reason why wars always happen. No one wants to take responsibility for mistakes that could have been avoided. They silence the screams of the innocent of one side with the screams of more innocents from another.**_

_**- **__Journal entry of Lieutenant Fllay Allster, pilot of the Avenger Phoenix. Written April 4th, C.E 73_

**X X X X X X **

"It sure is peaceful here," a young teenager said as he lowered himself onto the soft grass beneath the tree, looking at his companion walk up the hill to join him. Dark-haired with purple eyes, the woman was one whose name was well-known amidst the ranks of the Earth Alliance. But she had changed. Oh, how she had changed. Those who knew her would be surprised by the changes. No longer did the commander of the Dominion kept her hair short. Now, it flowed to her hips in long, soft obsidian waves. Her gaze, once sharp and stern, lacked the edge that had once been there before.

Natarle Badgiruel smiled as she sat down beside the teenager, "It is. And beautiful, too. I never would have imagined I would see such a place outside my dreams."

The teenager chuckled in amusement, "It is not a dream. Places like this do exist. There are many who seek it out," and his voice lowered, "but few of them ever choose to protect it. Those that do soon find that they have many enemies who desire its destruction or to take it from them to accomplish a dream that is best left unfulfilled."

The dark-haired commander of the Dominion remained silent, before finally speaking, "Are you trying to say that those who choose to protect paradise run the risk of losing everything?"

"Not quite. They will only lose everything if they do not commit themselves fully to the cause they have chosen to champion. Their duty does not permit doubt, for to do so will grant their enemies the leverage they need to win," the teenager said as he stood up, "They guard a princess who will never see their faces or know their names."

Natarle looked at the teenager, a perplexed look on her face, "If that is the case, what reason would the princess have to trust them? She does not know them - and that is reason enough for her not to. She will forever be looking over her shoulder, wondering if her loyal protectors are the ones who will one day end her life."

The teenager nodded, conceding the point, "Do you remember the novel, '_Under the Tree of Eternity'_, written by Sylvia Thompson?"

Natarle nodded. _'Under the Tree of Eternity'_ had been an account of the events that had led up to the siege of a distant planet called Suldanesselar, which had been the homeworld of an alien race called the winglies. Likened to winged elves, their empire had been vast, encompassing over hundred systems, and easily the equal of the larger, human-held Dragon Shogunate. The novel itself was over seven hundred years old, but the way it had been written captured the hearts and minds of both the young and old for generations. The realism within its pages was one that could not be captured unless one was there in person. But, what had shifted the book from its place in the history section in bookstores to the fantasy section had been the same thing that had made the novel so loved in the first place.

Treachery, love, hate, vengeance, justice, loyalty - and characters so memorable that she could picture them in her mind as they stood in the flames of a glorious city humanity strove to one day bring into reality.

"Raiha Nanaya and his companions are as good an example as I can give. They were not the only ones, of that I am certain, but his actions best explain what I am trying to say. Tasked by their leaders in Lordaeron to protect the Queen of Suldanesselar by unearthing the threat against both her and her people, they had to do so in utter secrecy lest the one they protected knew their identities. When the Queen asked who they were, they lied. Each name they spoke belonged to those who had died years before. In the end, these defenders shared a fate that befalls all those who wage war at the behest of higher powers..."

The teenager had, by then, stood on the lake's embankments.

"What are you trying to tell me?" Natarle asked, joining him there.

"To kill the man who had tried to ascend to godhood, they first had to lie. It's a basic tactic - never let your enemy know who is hunting him, lest he find a way to counter-attack. This traitor believed that his hunters were inferior to his allies, and who had succeeded in disrupting his plans only because they had been lucky. He did not know that each name they had spoken were the very things they had wanted to be. They know that they could not stand amongst their own kind unless they did something that allowed them to be so."

Natarle was quiet for a long time, before asking the teenager if Raiha and his companions were aware that there would be none to sing songs and tell stories of a moment history was made, when an arrogant, ancient race was humbled by one of its own - and saved by one they considered their inferior. Was this, Natarle asked, what it meant to be a defender? That, to do so, none must know your name even if they saw your face?

Before the teenager could answer, a little girl clad in a Sunday school outfit carrying a bouquet of flowers in her small arms came running up to them. She stopped right in front of Natarle and handed her one of them, "Here. I found this pretty white flower for you, mommy."

Natarle was startled, but smiled at the girl all the same before kneeling down so as to meet the latter's adoring gaze, "I'm sorry, but I think you've gotten me confused with someone else. I'm not your mother."

The white-haired girl smiled. It was an innocent and honest smile that Natarle found familiar. Where had she seen it? The girl shook her head when Natarle attempted to return flower - a white rose - to the her.

"Not yet," the girl smiled, "But soon, you will be."

Now, Natarle knew why the girl's face was so familiar. It was her own when she had been but a child herself - but there were small, very noticeable differences. If what the little girl said was true, then there was no doubt as to who her mother was. But...who was her father?

"Can you tell me who your father is?"

The girl giggled at the question, "That's a funny question, mommy. You know who daddy is. He;s that White Lion that roams these fields. You always told me and my siblings how he could not be tamed, that he followed none but his own heart. Neither you nor my aunts have ever told me how it was done."

Natarle didn't know what to say or think when she heard that. However, the response that she gave was not the one she had planned on giving.

"That's a story for another time, sweetheart."

As strange as the answer was, Natarle knew what the little girl was asking about - and how to stave off her curiousity for the time being.

"I know, mommy. I know," the little girl replied before giving her a quick hug before handing over to the teenager and giving him another rose. After that, she skipped away, leaving Natarle and her companion alone. Natarle had questions now, questions that demanded answers. As she turned to her companion, she saw that he was no longer where she thought he was. She stood alone on the shores of the lake. She quickly looked in the direction where the little girl had left, but saw that she too was no longer there.

When Natarle turned again, she came face-to-face with an enormous white lion. The lion unleashed a thunderous roar that caused Natarle to stumble and fall flat on her back. She tried to back away, but the low growl the magnificent creature gave caused her to freeze. Its feral gaze were locked with Natarle's terror-filled eyes, and she could feel its intense gaze probing her soul. Even as it stared at her in the same fashion as a predator would its prey, she heard it speak in a low whisper.

"Why do you fear me now? You weren't afraid of me when we first met - nor were you when you saw what I was capable of. Even though time has passed, I'm still the same person you knew. So tell me why are you afraid of me now?"

When Natarle replied, it was as if someone else was speaking through her. It was her and yet, at the same time, not her.

"You've not changed from when I first met you...but you've become something far worse than that which you fight against. That spark in your eyes that made you both a protector and our child's father is no longer there."

There was a conviction in her voice that Natarle knew was not born from impulse. It was a conviction born of truth - and one that Natarle hopes that one day will be made real. She knew that, someday, she would hold that white-haired, little girl in her arms.

"If that is the case, then I pray that you learn from my mistakes and never change in the way I have. Please, be the mother our child needs - more than ever," a voice spoke from behind her. Natarle froze. She knew that voice! Only one person - only one! - spoke in those soft, gentle tones. She whirled around, her mind telling her heart and soul that it simply was not possible. She prayed that it wasn't a lie, that it wasn't a cruel joke.

It wasn't.

"K-Kira...?"

The young Coordinatro looked down at Natarle, smiling as he helped her to her feet. The dark-haired womman was speechless. This wasn't a dream. She could feel the warmth of his touch, and the faint scent of his hair and skin. It was almost too much for her to take in, and of all the countless questions that ran through her mind, only one was voiced.

"What mistakes are you talking about? You've never made mistakes that would turn you into a monster. So how can I learn from something you haven't - and never will - do?"

Kira chuckled ruefully, "You're right, you know. You can save me as you saved yourself."

"What do you mean? I can't save you now. It...it's too late for any kind of saving," Natarle replied in a strangled voice, "I...I wa stoo late to save you when you needed tme the most."

"How can you be too late for something that has yet to happen? Why do you feel the need to surrender before you've even begun the fight?" and Kira lifted Natarle's gaze so that the latter could gaze into the eyes of the former, "Do you think that I could have run away during the final days of the Bloody Valentine War?"

Natarle did not speak, but when she did, her voice was a soft whisper that told Kira that she did not know what to think, what to believe or what to understand.

"Then, Natarle," Kira said, "you're right where you're supposed to be."

That answer made the storm of confusion in Natarle's heart worse, and caused her frustration to skyrocket to escape velocity, "Why is it that you will never give me a straight answer, Kira?"

The moment those words left her lips, the ground beneath them began to shake with the violence of an apocalyptic earthquake and started to break apart. Flame erupted from the ground, transforming the serene image of lush meadows and rolling hills into one out of Hell's blood-drenched battlefields. The ground splintered, and a fissure formed between her and Kira, separating them with fiery pillars that blasted into the sky.

"The hero who conquered Troy had but one wish - he wanted to go home and live his life as a normal man. It is a wish echoed through the centuries for time immemorial by those who have paid their dues on the battlefields."

But Natarle did not hear Kira's words, clear as they were through the thunder of the destruction that was consuming the lush meadows in their searing heat. She screamed his name, her voice heavy with torment. She could not bear to lose him a second time. Not like this!

"Many were the heroes of the Great Crusade who lost not only their friends, but lost their way. Some would eventually return to the path they had abandoned, but just as many chose otherwise. Those of the latter knew that forgiveness was not so easily won, and thus had to fight long and hard to earn it."

"What does all this mean?"

"We all lose our way at one point or another, Natarle. But we still want to be where our hearts tell us to go."

Those were Kira's last words before a fiery wall blocked Natarle's view of him. She tried to scream out his name, but her voice was lost in a crumbling paradise. The flames came closer, like a hungry beast, threatening to devour her. She used her arms in a futile effort to shield herself from the heat. A glance to the already-unstable ground told her that it was on the verge of crumbling and throwing her into the sea of fire below. A fireball launched itself from that fearsome sea, arching straight towards her. Time slowed down, and she saw that fiery bolt come ever so slowly towards her before it hit. Natarle screamed as her body was enveloped in flames.

It was fitting, she knew, to die like this. The fire was but a heartbeat away from consuming her when she heard something that made her do what she hadn't done as the flames finally devoured her. She cried as Kira's voice echoed in her ears, telling her that she was undeserving of the fate that had been levelled onto her.

_**X X X X X X**_

"KIRAAAA...!"

Natarle Badgiruel shot up in bed, screaming, as her dream followed her into reality. Her heart was racing and she was breathing heavily, as if she had been running a marathon. The sweat made her clothes stick to her body. She hated the fabric that her undergarments were made of, mostly due to the reason that when she sweated, it would stick to her body like a second layer of skin.

It was downright embarrasing, as it woud like like she was sleeping in the nude - and that was something she didn't want her subordinates gossiping about if one of them rushed into her quarters to inform her that there was an emergency. Though she had pretended to be oblivious to the subtle advances of the male half of her crew, she was well aware of what they were thinking.

Never mind them. She already had enough things on her mind. Taking first place among them were the recurring dreams that had been plaguing her for two years. For every day of those two years ever since the end of the Bloody Valentine War, she paid a price every time she closed her eyes. She would dream - either of the past that had created the present, or behold a dream that was more vision than nightmare. It couldn't be the latter, as all nightmares she ever had ever since she had been a child had always left her shivering in terror. These visions felt as though someone was actually touching her soul. These 'visions', for lack of a better term, were always the same. It played out the same bittersweet act and the painful emotions it aroused therein followed her into the waking world.

The first part of her dream was from the time when she had first met Kira Yamato on the neutral Orb Colony of Heliopolis. From there, it went to the time when he voiced his opinion on the method the Archangel had used to replenish its dwindling supplies. The final part of her memories went to the time when she commented that he had a penchant of picking up objects floating about in space, regardless of what it was and who owned it. Natarle remembered something from that memory - something she couldn't believe that she had dismissed as something inconsequential. There had been a look of annoyance in his eyes that told anyone that what he did was his own business. The dream would then jump forward to the time the brown-haired Coordinator saved her life. The words he had spoken then were etched onto her heart. And then, the dream ended, and she would be standing on the deck of the Archangel where the Memorial Service had been held.

For most part, the dreams were bearable. It was its ending that had never failed cause her pain. She knew that, back then, by attending the service, that there would be more than a handful of people who would view her presence there negatively. She and Fllay had stayed out of sight so as to attract attention, but had been close enough to hear Murrue's voice.

Natarle remembered her brown-haired counterpart speaking about how far they had travelled together and the things they had done, both good and bad. The crew of the Archangel had walked that road together as a team from the day it had escaped Heliopolis till the final days of the Bloody Valentine War. Murrue spoke of their actions, of the lives they had saved, and of the price paid to see it through.

_**"It boils down to duty and the decision to see it through. There will come a time when one's duty clashes with one's conscience. In that time, the soldier must weigh their worth - and decide."**_

Those words, spoken by a fallen Admiral, echoed in her mind when Murrue addressed the crew members of the Archangel, the Kusanagi and the Eternal. She knew that those words had lost any form of comfort that they could have given, a reminder that it was time for her to stop acting so much like the perfect soldier that the EA needed and more like a human being. Had she - and those like her - realised the consequences of her actions so much sooner, fewer people would have died.

Natarle drew in another deep breath. The dark-haired commanded knew that her recurring dreams were telling her that her actions had had grave consequences - consequences that saw to someone's death. But what she couldn't understand was what those same dreams were trying to tell her. Natarle dragged herself out of bed and entered the washroom. Several handfuls of cold water did wonders of washing off the sweat - and bringing back the remaining segments of her dreams. As soon as her hand touched her face, the memory became crystal clear.

She remembered the scene at the Memorial Service, a somber event where pain and anguish shrouded the bay. Many were fighting back tears, and just as many let it spill unashamedly. Murrue's voice had been shaky as she delivered Kira's eulogy. Natarle remembered how her heart had twisted in agony, and fought to maintain her composure. Had she broken down there and then, she would never have heard the final words that Murrue had spoken.

_**"Kira Yamato was a kind and gentle soul who had never wanted to hurt anyone,, but who would not hesitate to put himself at risk when those he cared about were in danger. As I look back on the days that have gone by, I pray that the world will change. We are now in a new age, one that is built on the backs of heroes and giants, and it will need them now in order to prosper.**_

_**"You were there when Alaska fell to ZAFT. All of you remember that moment when we were but a heartbeat from death - with a GINN pointing its gun straight at the bridge. The last thought that crossed my mind then was not fear. It was failure. I had failed those I had sworn to protect.**_

_**"I had close my eyes, waiting for the end, but when I saw another flash behind my closed eyes, I knew that my life was over. I wanted to hold on desperately to that last moment before Oblivion claimed me. But when I opened my eyes, I saw a mobile suit hovering before me. I couldn't believe it then. I thought that HQ hadn't abandoned us, that they had sent in reinforcements."**_

Natarle glared at the emblem sown onto her uniform. Those who had been left behind during the Alaskan Massacre had been expendable, to be used to draw the invading ZAFT forces into a trap that had annihilated every living thing within 15 kilometres of the EA stronghold.

_**"My heart almost stopped when I heard his voice. I could not believe it. I had given up hope that he was still alive - but to see him standing there, protecting us, was a sight that gave me hope. Kira had come back to us, changed. I saw his eyes. There was a strength there that had not been there before.**_

_**"You all knew what had happened at Alaska, and the events that transpired thereafter. Our uniforms no longer had the meaning we once belived it to have, and the oaths we have made when we joined are rendered meaningless in the face of such betrayal. We fled to Orb, abandoning our loyalties to the Federation. During that journey, I asked him where he had been. When he told me, it made me wonder what made him choose to return to us. He could have stayed where he had been. He would no longer need to bloody his hands in an insane war. And this is what he told me. He told me that there was a better tomorrow, and that he wanted to make sure that those he loved would be there to see it.**_

Natarle remembered Murrue placing a hand over a heart, the gesture burned into her memory of an undying oath, _**"Then and there, I start to believe."**_

The final words out of Murrue's lips about Kira were the last that Natarle would ever hear for months thereafter. She couldn't blame her. It hurt - and would never stop hurting.

_**"And though you are no longer here to see what you have helped accomplish, I - and everyone that stand here - thank you for what you have given us. For our tomorrow, you have given us your today. And for that tomorrow after that, we shall give ours.**_"

Murrue raised her hands to salute the casket that held the few personal effects - save that of his robotic bird, which circled the casket - of the lost pilot of Freedom. The crew of the ships that had helped change history followed suit, their faces as weary and sad as the Archangel's captain. An honour guard carried the casket slowly to the airlock and then jettisoned it in the direction of the sun. It was a sight that was seared into Natarle's memories. That, and the memories of how Cagalli had to be restrained by Athrun. How Murrue sobbed bitterly in Mwu's arms, breaking down completely. Or how Fllay had sobbed and begged for Kira to come back.

She had seen Lacus Clyne walk to the nearest window, watching the casket float away with eyes that had shed tears throughout the entire ceremony. She remembered the depressed slump and the undeniable pain that had shrouded the near-invincibed Desert Tiger of ZAFT, Andrew Bartfeld, as he watched the casket fade into the sea of stars.

The reactions of those at the Memorial made Natarle realise that, somewhere along the line, Kira had become important to many people. It was a point fiercely reinforced when Cagalli caught sight of both her and Fllay.

"What are you doing here? Did you come to gloat? Are you here to see the results of your handiwork, huh? The both of you are responsible for this! You practically helped that Blue Cosmos maniac put Kira in his coffin! Are you happy now?" Cagalli spat, her tawny eyes blazing with fury, "Get out of my sight! You have no right to be here!"

"Cagalli..." Athrun said, holding the golden-haired lioness back before she physically assaulted the injured Federation officer and her red-haired companion.

"Be that as it may, Miss Cagalli, we came to pay our respects to a fallen comrade and a dear friend. It is the least we could do in asking forgiveness for our actions," Natarle said.

"Forgiveness? Forgiveness?" Cagalli had found it ridiculous that the two people who were more than responsible for Kira's death would come to his funeral for it was no longer there to give it, "You want to be forgiven? For what? For choosing to remain blind?"

Cagalli wrestled her way out of Athrun's grip and strode up to the two women, "As far as I'm concerned, it is the both of you who deserve to be in that casket! You have no right in asking for forgiveness when you damn well knew that you could have stopped this from happening! It hurt him deeply having to fight the people he knew in order to protect those he cared about. When he realised he had to fight you in order to protect the Archangel, I could see the pain in his eyes that he tried to hide in order to do what he felt was the right thing."

"There hasn't been a soldier who didn't do something he or she felt was right before finding out how wrong he or she was. Kira could have easily been in the wrong even if he thought he was doing the right thing," Natarle countered. It was the only thing she could have said to counter Cagalli's accusation. Anything else would have sounded like an excuse to justify her actions.

"That did happen when Kira killed my friend, Nicol. He was the one who piloted the Blitz Gundam and who had died protecting me."

"Who are you?"

"Me? I'm Athrun Zala, son of Patrick Zala, the late," he stressed the word 'late', "leader of PLANT and Supreme Commander of ZAFT. I was the one who piloted the Aegis Gundam under the command of Rau le Creuset. I am the man who was Kira's childhood friend. I am the one he fought against in every battle up till the day the Blitz was destroyed and Nicol died."

"You're him?" Natarle whispered in shock as the implications of what happened before slammed into her with the force of a sledgehammer. The dark-haired young man nodded somberly, and told her everything she had ever wanted to know - and more. Natarle had never felt more sickened than that very moment when she finally received the answers to questions she had never voiced aloud.

"I know what you mean about doing what you feel is right, even if it ends up being a mistake. Kira didn't run away from the consequences of his actions, but we did," Athrun said quietly, his voice heavy with emotion.

"And that is why they shouldn't be here!" Cagalli snarled, "The both of them should have died on the Dominion with that maniac when it sank! That way, my brother's death wouldn't have been meaningless!"

"Cagalli..." Athrun said, trying to placate the golden-haired lioness, "That's..."

"Meaningless?" Natarle hissed, her eyes narrowing, "Where did you get the idea that his death was meaningless?"

"He died protecting this ship and his friends from a maniac whose deluded beliefs nearly brought the entire human race into extinction. Had the both of you, instead of Azrael, been manning the Dominion when it fired, there would have been no question as to why he had died - and I would have been justified in making sure you paid for it!"

Natarle and Fllay were unable to say anything, the former knowing better than the latter just how justified Cagalli was in saying those words. In the golden-haired girl's mind, for her brother to have perished because of treachery meant that he had not died in vain.

"I do not care what you think about me or Captain Badgiruel," Fllay said as the shock of what she had just heard Cagalli said sank in, "You know full well that we had never intended to betray Kira in the first place."

"In the first place," Cagalli cut in, her eyes blazing, "the both of you have done just that. You sought to turn my brother into your killing weapon so that he could avenge your father's death, Allster. And captain Badgiruel wanted to do the same and, like you, most likely abandon him after he had outlived his usefulness."

"Cagalli! That's enough. Blaming them is not going to bring Kira back. Enough. Please."

Cagalli turned to look at Athrun, the pain there enough to quell her rage. She turned back to look at Natarle and Fllay, the venomous look in her golden eyes conveying the unspoken words that she would never forgive them for what they had done.

"It does not change the fact," Fllay said, meeting Cagalli's glare, uncaring if the latter would strike her a second time in the same day, "that he had saved our lives. If he hadn't, we would not be having this conversation."

"And in that, we are in agreement. But it doesn't change the fact that you killed him. It doesn't change the fact that, even though you were not the ones who landed the killing blow, your actions brought into place the events that caused it to happen," Cagalli choked out before she walked away with Athrun in tow.

Cagalli's parting words had hit home. Natarle had found herself wanting to deny the accusation, but found herself unable to do so. Fllay tried to defend her, but found no words in which to rebuff the pained young woman before her. If there was one thing worse than dying in a senseless war, it was surviving because someone else took your place on the ferry. And that someone, Natarle whispered to herself, was someone whose reasons for fighting were better than yours and who had to endure the pain you never had to feel.

For two years, Natarle's dreams hounded her like an angry ghost, reminding her every day of the consequences of her actions. Maybe that was why she chose to stay with the Earth Forces after the Junius-7 peace treaty was signed. A part of her knew that there would always be resentment and prejudices lingering deep in the heart of the Earth Alliance, and she wanted to be there to stop it before it escalated into another war. It was the only way she could keep her promise to the person who had died trying to give her a second chance. Natarle looked over at her bookshelf, where a picture rested in a silver-steel frame.

On it was a picture of Kira and his friends when they had first boarded the Archangel. In that picture was of days long gone, when they were ignorant of the hardships they would face in the path they had chosen to travel upon. Even though clad in the uniforms of the Earth Alliance Army, it did not change the fact that they had been normal teenagers. The one who gave her the picture, a copy that each of Kira's friends had, had been Sai Argyle. When asked for the reason as to why she wanted it, Natarle had replied that she didn't want to forget those lost in the war, and the lessons she had learnt from it.

It had been a lie. She wanted that picture for the fact that it reminded her that her saviour had been a person first and a legendary MS pilot second. A legend, Natarle realised, that began when the Archangel soared from the wreckage of the Heliopolis colony. A legend she had been part of. Even though she had not spoken of it outside of the Board of Inquiry when the Archangel had managed to reached Alaska, word had somehow gotten around of the reason behind the Archangel's near-invincible reputation. It had spread before Internal Security could initiate a blackout, much to their chagrin. The rank and file of the EA's Star Forces spoke of a lone Coordinator who had joined them in the fight to defeat ZAFT, and to bring the rebellious PLANTs under back under the rule of Earth once more. The fact that he had humbled the finest that the elite army of PLANT had to offer had raised Kira's reputation beyond that of the the Hawk of Endymion's.

But, strangely, those same people who spoke of Kira had also left his name unmentioned. Whether this was deliberate, she did not know, but the fact that they knew he had fought the war with no prior combat experience had aroused several questions. **How** did they know? Something so confidential, known only by a chosen few, made Natarle wonder if Kira was more than what she thought he was. Possibly even more than he himself would ever know.

And the only answer to all her questions was in that single photograph. To the former commander of the Dominion, it was the only thing left that showed Kira as he really was and not what he had become. Natarle had lost count of how many times that small keepsake had caused her to space out, and the number of times her subordinates would walk in on her when she was...elsewhere. Shaking her head, she changed out of her drenched clothes, exchanging them for a loose shirt and a pair of trousers before sitting down at her desk with a quiet sigh.

Forgiveness, Natarle knew, was not an easy thing to win - particularly when one's hands are soiled with the sin of one's actions. In the silent darkness of her quarters, the dark-haired officer felt the crippling touch of guilt and exhaustion grip her soul. Purple eyes and a slender hand traced a familiar scar on her stomach - the parting gift of a madman. It was ironic that the one responsible it had not been an enemy who stood on the opposing side, but by someone who who stood on hers. That scar was an eternal reminder of her mistakes, of the lives lost in a sick war, and of the pain borne by the survivors. Though no different from any bullet wound borne by any war veteran, it felt, to Natarle, as though it were larger. The bullet had done more damage than she had originally believed.

She would never have children. Not even the highly advanced medical services of PLANT had been able to reverse the damage. To the dark-haired former commander of the Dominion, the dream of that white-haired, little girl waiting for her was akin to a physical blow. But, even so, Natarle would often run her hand over a stomach and wonder if things would have been different had they turned out better, that something besides the scar would be there. Such thoughts would bring a small smile to her face. Though the warmth offered by that fantasy was brief, it was one of the few things in Natarle's life that made it bearable.

She pushed her thoughts aside and turned her attention to the three files that she had skimmed through hours earlier. One of them had been delivered to her by an officer from the Intelligence department regarding recent political events as well as possible targets and the movements of the terrorist factions that refused to lay down their arms. While there were several such groups, the two factions that were a source of worry to the superpowers were the Blue Cosmos-affiliated group of Ozcham's Razor, and the renegade ZAFT forces of Genesis's Light - both of which were numerous and well-armed. Though the anti-Coordinator Blue Cosmos faction had lost several key members, there was not shortage of people who were more than willing to take their place. Leadership of the faction had, however, fallen to a man named Ozcham Inhert. His counterpart in the Genesis's Light faction, however, remained unknown. The goals of the extremist factions were the same - the total extermination of the 'lesser' race.

The second file, bearing the insignia of the EA's Manpower Branch, held the transfer orders of a certain MS pilot and one of the newest mobile suits in the Earth Forces' arsenal - the GAT-class Avenger Phoenix Gundam. The last file had come together with the second, carrying instructions for Natarle's ship, the Archangel-class _Shield of Destiny_, to make way to PLANT Neo-Stratos after it had accomplished the first task of picking up the Avenger Phoenix and her pilot, where they will link-up with a ZAFT battle-cruiser where they would receive additional pilots and suits for the mission ahead.

After that, they would meet up with a SENTINELs battle-group to track down and destroy the hidden bases of the extremist factions. The mission would not be an easy one, Natarle knew, as the extremists had proven several times that they could meet the Earth Sphere's armies in a straight-out fight and win. Military Intelligence on Earth and on the PLANTs were still investigating how this was possible, but there were many within its political circles who considered this a waste of time and resources as little else other than the name of the extremist factions had been uncovered. Natarle knew that the obvious reluctance of the politicians was due to their political differences and the fear that their ranks had been infiltrated by the enemy.

The dark-haired officer knew that it was quite possible that both the Earth Alliance army and ZAFT had been infiltrated as well, but it was not her job to worry about such things. Espionage and _**counter**_-espionage was the bailiwick of Military Intelligence, after all. Let them do their jobs, for a change. Natarle ran a tight ship - and that meant that she screened each and every one of her crew before allowing them onto her ship. She didn't want anyone who could be a possible security risk to even see the interiors of the _Shield of Destiny_, let alone spread their lies to the rest of her crew. Much of the _Shield of Destiny_'s crew had once served with her on the _Dominion_ and, as such, were extremely antagonistic of the views held by their comrades-in-arms who subscribed to the anti-Coordinator views of the Blue Cosmos. Having seen firsthand the near-annihilation of the human race and almost seeing their captain die at the hands of a madman did much to change their minds. Natarle had had to break up fights between her own people and those from other ships at times.

Natarle ran a hand through her long hair, and studied the emblem of the SENTINELs - a swooping golden eagle clutching a cross in its talons, superimposed over a starry sky. The emblem was an old one, hailing back from the days of a bygone era, but it was fitting for the organisation that was born from the ashes of the Bloody Valentine War. Their combat record ever since their inception had left no doubt as to the quality of the men and women in their ranks. The SENTINELs were a crack army specializing in surgical strikes that were terrifying in its precision and speed that had made even the elite Bloodhawks of ZAFT turn pale. The Coordinators and Naturals that filled its ranks were dedicated to the singular vision of ensuring that a second Bloody Valentine War does not happen. Even though the SENTINELs were under the jurisdiction of the superpowers, their mandate to act independently had caused the more vocal members of Earth and PLANT to voice their disapproval vociferously.

For her part, Natarle kept a close eye on the SENTINELs. Though she had no reason to be suspicious of them, the dark-haired former commander of the _Dominion_ could not keep out the old maxim from repeating in her mind: _Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. _

But not always. Not always.

A part of her was glad that the ace pilot that was assigned to her ship along with the Avenger Phoenix was someone she knew, someone who shared that single overwhelming belief to defend the helpless and undo the works of the wicked. Natarle smiled. The price for redemption is a high one, and every day from now till the day they died, they would pay the price for walking back into the Light.

Natarle looked at her alarm clock. 0450 hours. There was still enough time to rest a little while longer. A nice, long shower would do nicely; it always worked when it came to relieving tension. And after having that dream, she needed that showed badly. The dark-haired officer looked at the picture of the pilot of the Avenger Phoenix once again. The pretty young teenager she had been two years ago had become a young woman, beautiful and strong. What she was now was a far cry from what she had been. And the call-sign that she had earned during her time in the Academy came as no surprise.

Natarle switched on the light on her desk before leaving her quarters for the ship's washroom. It illuminated the orders that laid on her desk:

_**Transfer/ Assignment Orders - Priority 1, Top Secret**_

_**By Order of Chief of Staff David Marshall, **_

_**EA High Command, Washington D.C., USA**_

_**Date: 12th May C.E. 73**_

_Captain Natarle Badgiruel, commander of the Archangel-class battleship, _Shield of Destiny, _is to head for nav-point 130.56.74.150 to receive 1 of the 3 new GAT-class Mobile Suits - as well as their pilots - for forthcoming operations against the extremist organisations that threaten the security of the Earth Sphere. The suit will be delivered to you by Patrol Squadron Swordmane when it meets your ship en route to the Lunar Base. _

_The other suits and their pilots will be sent to you when they are ready. Good hunting._

_**Manifest: **_**GAT-X109AZ Avenger Phoenix Gundam and spare parts (see appendix A for full list).**

_**Personnel: **_Lieutenant Fllay Allster, call-sign _**Angel of Fire**_, and Chief Technician Raine Mikamura

_**X X X X X X**_

It had taken her two years to get where she was now, and the marching orders Fllay Allster had received several days ago was one that she still had trouble believing. It was not because of the mission's high-risk rating or the fact that she was going to serve under someone she knew. No, it was because she was finally about to get the chance to undo the wrongs she had done a lifetime ago.

Fllay was not blind to the plans that the political and military elite had in store for her two years ago when they transferred her from Alaska prior to its destruction, remembering the white-hot rage that had almost pushed her over the edge when she was told the truth. They had wanted to use her as a rallying cry - the Lacus Clyne of the Earth Alliance - to strengthen the will of its soldiers to bring the war to its conclusion. That was probably the reason why she was never comfortable whenever she was wearing her uniform; it brought back bitter memories that would have been better off forgotten. But, whatever their reasons were now for allowing her to go on this mission, she was going to ensure that she would not end up making the same mistakes. And if her superiors were unhappy with her decisions, she was more than glad to show them the door - after breaking a few bones in the process.

Fllay looked at the towering form of the GAT-X109AZ Avenger Phoenix Gundam, praying that the power she had been given by Kira and the Earth Alliance, would be enough to keep hope's flame burning bright. It was a prayer she whispered every time she stood before the slumbering angel of steel. She had never prayed much back then, having little reason to, but after the war found that a little faith went a long way.

"I thought you'd be out cold by now."

Fllay jumped and turned to see a woman standing behind her.

"Sorry," the brown-haired woman grinned apologetically, "Didn't mean to scare you. Looking at the Avanger again?"

Fllay nodded.

"It **is** an impressive machine, I'll give our people that, but the way you're looking at it tells me you're thinking about something else entirely."

"Am I that easy to read, Raine?"

Master Chief Raine Mikamura walked up to Fllay. The latter noticed that the former was not wearing her usual black and gray jumpsuit worn by Earth Alliance machanics, but was clad in a red jacket and skirt that was derived from uniforms worn by its female officers. Her dark brown hair was loose instead of done up in its usual ponytail. Although older than Fllay by a decade, her youthful looks made Raine look like a teenager.

"Of course. That means I know how to deal with you - something I **am** thankful for, believe me. You're as predictable as the machines I fix. Screw the right parts, replace others, and they'll work without a hiccup for a few months. Not like most other people I know. I will never live to hear the end of **their** problems even when we have finished fixing it. I mean, come on. I'm a mechanic, not a therapist..."

"Something you should have been," Fllay cut in, grinning, "At least the pay is **way** better..."

"Point," Raine said, laughing, before the two women turned their gaze onto the Gundam that laid secure in its hangar-compartment. The brown-haired Chief Technician's face turned grave, her face serious, "Why did you accept this mission, Fllay-girl? The chances of you returning alive is low, and the odds you will go up against will get worse with each encounter. As your friend, I have to tell you that this is not the way you should live. You have a full life ahead of you. You can go back and..."

"And what, Raine?" Fllay cut in, "Go back and do what? I've nothing left to go back to. The war saw to that. All I can do now is keep going forward. One day, when all this fighting is done, Raine...we can have this conversation. But not yet. Not until my ghosts are gone."

Raine did not speak a word; she knew what her younger counterpart was talking about. The scars on Fllay's soul cut all the way to her soul. This was a wound that would never stop bleeding. Raine knew more than a few people like Fllay, and all of them were struggling to cope.

She sighed quietly, and ran a hand through her hair, "If what you've told me back then was true, then there's little I can do to change your mind. You once told me that you knew someone who ended up fighting in the war even though he never wanted to in the first place. That he was far too kind for his own good. You also once told me that this Gundam was once his before our people used what was left of it to build the Phoenix, and that he had died carrying out his promise."

Fllay nodded.

"You remember the time I told you about the time I worked as an MS mechanic on one of the carriers and how quickly I had to work to get a busted MS back onto the battlefield again?"

Another nod.

"What I never told you was that each time a damaged MS was brought into the hangar bay, the pilot inside was either dead or dying. Some were crushed beyond recognition. I had to be the one to remove the pilot and clean the insides so that it wouldn't get in the way of the repair work."

"If you're trying to tell me that MS pilots have short lifespans and that they sometimes die pointless deaths, life and my trainers in the Academy have beaten you to it, Raine," Fllay said as she glared pointedly at the older woman.

Raine ran a hand through her brown hair again, this time in silent frustration, "I know I asked you this before, but tell me again as to why you are so determined to do this? And this time, do not try to smoke me."

Fllay closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts before finally speaking, "I don't have an answer to give you, Raine. The only thing I do know is that this is something I must do, and until the day those angry ghosts are put to rest, I will bear the burden and the mark of what I've done."

"Bear the mark, huh?" Raine looked thoughtfully, her eyes going to Fllay's back, "At least that explains the tattoo. A very impressive Phoenix tattoo to go along with an equally impressive Gundam with the same name. It fits you, if you want my opinion. I always thought that it was some sort of dare you took up back when you were in the Academy. Now...one last question. Why a Phoenix? Your call-sign was 'Angel Of Fire'. I would have expected tattoos of white wings on your back dripping flames instead of those golden and crimson ones."

Fllay played with her soft, crimson locks, "From what I read, a phoenix is a mythical beast that can only be reborn from the ashes of its previous incarnation. An elemental Angel is created by one of the four elements, and has the capacity in it to become a being of mercy or a destroyer. Both beings are the embodiment of life, but only the phoenix understands that it comes full circle. Death will always be followed by rebirth."

"That's... pretty consistent with what I know. But what does that have to do with answering my question?" Raine asked slowly.

"About a year ago, I had a talk with someone. She and I were not exactly the best of friends. Our conversation made me realize something about myself - and reminded me of an old story I was told back when I was a kid."

Raine's perplexity faded almost instantly. She might very well get her answers after all

"And what story is that?"

"It's an old one, written over seven centuries ago," Fllay said, nodding when Raine commented that the story **was **old, "It was a story written about an Angel that was born in Gehenna after the Fall of the Righteous, the schism that tore Heaven and Earth apart in a bloody civil war. The Morningstar who Fell from grace eventually became known as Pandaemonium, and bore many daughters in which to seduce Adam and his sons into her service. But this one Angel, born with the same fiery wings as that of her Empress of the Fallen, lacked the malice and goals of her siblings. Many other Fallen had wished to use this newborn Angel in which to strike down their ruler and assume the throne, but the Morningstar's loyalists chose instead to exile her.

"And so, onto Earth, the battleground of the Great War, was she exiled. The Fiery Angel wandered aimlessly for an age, lonely and forsaken. That ended the day it beheld a phoenix rise from the ashes, bringing back a memory burnt into the soul of a lost dream that had never died. The Fiery Angel believed that the Phoenix was no different that itself, and with the wisdom of ages accrued from millennias of life back from the day God had called Creation into being, would make an excellent teacher and a wonderful companion. The Fiery Angel loved stories, and the Phoenix was sure to have plenty of them."

Raine continued to listen intently to Fllay's story, wondering how it would end.

"Companionship was a welcome boon in exchange for knowledge," Fllay continued, her eyes gazing far away, "And so, the Phoenix and the Fiery Angel travelled together through the skies of a Creation yet unsundered by God's edict. The Angel followed the Phoenix no matter where it went and lended aid without the other asking, each teaching the other lessons that they could not learn alone. As time passed, the group of two became four, became eight, became twenty, and finally, fifty. They made an impossible dream possible by simple faith.

"And when the Second Confrontation with God erupted, they were there to make a difference. The Divine Beasts that stood upon the sacred earth of Creation prepared, with their armies and allies, to consign their legend into the pages of history."

"That's an interesting story," Raine said, "But, I did not fail to notice that your portrayal of Lucifer is that 'he' is a 'she' in your story. What gives?"

Fllay smirked, then, "Raine, what planet is the Morningstar?"

"Mars?" Raine ventured.

"Wrong. Venus," Fllay's smirk grew wider, causing Raine's eyebrow to twitch, "The Greek name for the Roman Goddess of Love, Aphrodite. In Greece, she held the same portfolio. I'm surprised you do not know, especially since you're using a perfume with the same name."

Raine rolled her eyes and grinned. _'Still, even with our friendship, it took her a year to open up to tell me everything. Everything - save the one thing I wanted to know most of all,' _Raine thought as she saw the meaning behind the story Fllay had just told her, _'I think I get it now. No...this is one question I'll not be asking a second time.'_

Fllay stretched, "Thanks for the talk, Raine. I feel so much better now."

As the red-haired girl picked up her jacket from the nearby maintainance lift railing, Raine called out, "Fllay, one last question if that's all right with you?"

_'Man...I may just be stepping into her personal life here...'_

Fllay looked at her curiously, "Shoot."

"I take that that day you had that conversation with that someone you were not on good terms with was the day you decided to be called Angel rather than Fllay, am I right?"

"I couldn't do what needed to be done if I am the girl I was before. And besides, that girl doesn't have anyone - or anywhere - to go back to. Angel is who I am now. Fllay Allster died two years ago," Fllay said quietly. Raine nodded and turned her gaze on the crimson-haired girl's back. The undershirt she wore didn't cover her shoulders. And with the phoenix tattoo on her back, it gave the impression that Fllay had wings herself.

"We still got a couple of hours before our shift begins, Raine. I'm going to try and get some more sleep. See you later," Fllay said as she walked away, waving her hand as she departed. The brown-haired mechanic shook her head before turning her eyes on the Avenger Phoenix.

"It's that damned old saying you've taken to heart, Angel. I guess the guy you lost during the Bloody Valentine War meant everything to you," Raine whispered quietly to the silent darkness where she could hear her heart beat, and to the silent stars who stood sentinel over the souls of the departed, "When one has nothing left to lose, does that person have everything to fight for."

_**To be continued...**_


	4. Chapter 3

_**Gundam SeeD Destiny: Lion of Heaven**_

_**Original idea and Concept by Kouryuo Sabre**_

_**Re-written by Spiritblade**_

_**Disclaimer: **_Gundam SeeD and GSD does not belong to me. Kouryuo Sabre and I are borrowing them - among a **LOT** of other things - for the duration of this project. Give Kouryuo your support, ladies and gents...and make sure he (nor I, for that matter) slack.

Now, down to the story.

**X X X X X X**

_The hypersonic rounds bounced off a shimmering power field as a goddess of war suddenly materialised behind him, her lovely expression beyond furious. Her long, dark hair rippled in an invisible wind, and the bodysuit she wore was overlaid by a breastplate with intricate scrollwork. Armored wings of steel and jade pounded, lending to an impression of majesty and terrible power. And powerful indeed was the man's guardian._

_In all the galaxy, less than ten thousand had the honour of having a War Goddess stride alongside them. He had named her Morrigan, after the Celtic Goddess of War...and after a game character they had modelled the Dragoon after. Ever since they made their contract, she was rarely five paces away from him when she was fully materialised, and a breath away when she was not. He could feel his enemies' terror. Against him, the chances of them taking him down had been low. Now, with his Dragoon hovering behind him like an angry archangel, there was none._

_The determined look in their eyes told him that this fight could only end one way. It hurt him that it had come to this. They would not turn and flee, no. These were war-hardened men and women, dedicated to the same cause he had once championed. Their conviction fuelled every swing of their plasma swords and guided every shot. To look at them was to look into a mirror image of himself. Heroes and heroines, the champions of the human race, turning upon each other...it was the ultimate irony, the sick joke of a God he was learning how to hate. They knew that coming here, to hunt him down and deliver the sentence levied upon his head was a death sentence._

**On the edge of sanity...**

_But, it did not deter them._

_It would not turn them aside._

_But still..._

_"Turn back, brother. Enough blood has been spilt this day. You cannot win," he said, the Thunderseal in his hands crackling violently to emphasise the last sentence._

_"Never, traitor," the leader of the kill-team spat, lowering his crackling guardian spear, the blaster cannon mounted atop the halberd blade pointed at him, "You will die for your treachery. It matters not how many of us you kill. Those that desire your death are legion, heretic. You will not escape God's justice."_

_"Your justice knows nothing of God, brother," the man replied, his eyes flicking over to his other assailants. The Beast is his soul threatened to overwhelm him once more, but he forced it back down. He had to, if there was any chance to stop this fight before more blood was spilt. Blood spilt cannot be poured back into the veins, his mother had once told him, and if you can, try to end the fighting before more perish._

**It draws the final line.**

_"Will you add blasphemy atop your manifold sins, freak?" the Templar asked, revulsion in his voice, "Tainted in body, blood and soul...you are the manifestation of the Antichrist's mightiest champion. It comes to no surprise. Lucifer was once God's most beloved daughter, after all, before she rebelled. And like her, you are the cancer within the holy army of God..."_

_The man flinched at the description of him being tainted in blood, body and soul. Being called a devil was something he was used to - the Beast that lurked in his soul, hungry for blood and destruction, married to a power that could consign anything living or otherwise to death, proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was one. _

_"Our Master loved you best, and you turned on him. You stood higher than any of the Sacred Beasts. And yet, you collaborated with the Dominion's Empress to implement an ideal that is beyond insane. Such a thing is not possible! The reason that she was once your childhood friend is not good enough to explain all the sins you have committed. This world, like so many others, were put to the sword. Why? We could have saved them...!" _

**The hand of Fate...**

_The Bloody Angel did not speak. How could he deny the accusation? What could he say in his defence? He __**had**__ murdered this world - and everyone on it. Everyone. The knowledge of this would have driven lesser men mad, but he knew more than what his accuser knew. Those on this world, like so many others, were already beyond saving. Before the symptoms started to show, he would kill them - and bear the bloody cross of vengeance on his march onto Terra... _

_...And to it, crucify a girl he had once called friend. A girl who had had loved him as a brother. A girl he had abandoned. His armoured hand tightened around the Thunderseal. _

_"Our Master had planned to bring Allura Dracian to trial, but you murdered her before we could capture her, didn't you? Unsurprising. Everything you touch withers, heretic. Not even those you love are spared your murderous nature. It is a fitting punishment for one such as you. Our Master has cursed you, traitor, so that despair and sorrow will dog your every step till Judgment Day."_

**Strikes unerringly...**

_The Bloody Angel shook at those words. How much more can he lose? How much more __**will**__ he lose? Was there a sin he had committed in a previous life that saw to it that he had to be tormented so cruelly? He had nothing left to go back to - the Empress Allura had destroyed his clan and his home-world was a ruin as desolate as the one he stood on. All his memories were like the snow that fell gently from the night sky..._

_...but they would always be there, alive and vibrant, in his heart. He would carry the memory there, always, cherished beyond words, and treasured beyond price. One day, he would see them again, but the toll the ferryman demanded was a high one - and he was patient. Charon could wait till then, knowing that this particular passenger needed time before he was willing to step into the boat._

_"I am not afraid of curses, brother. I have lived with them all my life."_

**And without mercy.**

_'And one day, I will be free of them.'_

_**Chapter 3**_

_**Yesterday, today, tomorrow**_

_**Cross, Tiffa and Ko Shiatar**_

_**A test of strength**_

_**Dreams and Memories 2 - Awakening**_

I can still remember the day I was given my first assignment. My stomach was in knots; I had expected my first posting to be a guard or as a relief pilot for the Mobile Suit squadrons at the front lines. Imagine my disappointment when I found out that I was assigned to escort duty for a recovery convoy. The fact that I had proven myself repeatedly during the 5 months of Advanced Training did not matter to them. My superiors wanted to teach me something that could not be taught through the camera screens of a mobile suit - and it was a lesson that sunk in.

My enemies, like myself, have a face, had a past, and had a name.

The assignment had served to see if I could maintain combat-effectiveness in the worst possible situations, and to reveal previously unknown facets of my character. Simulations, war games and countless psychological reviews did not give them the insight they desired. Whatever reports my unit commander gave to High Command apparently had them in agreement that I had the pre-requisites for another job that they had in mind.

Well...I have to admit, I didn't exactly pass with flying colours, but it had justified their earlier decisions regarding my future position within ZAFT. After my first assignment ended, I was instructed to appear before the PLANT Council to receive my next posting. When my meeting with the big-shots was over, I was left wondering why I had agreed to what they had asked of me. My only condition - which they reluctantly accepted - was that I be allowed to choose those who I felt would be able to do what they asked me to do. And, not surprisingly, the politicians in the Council made a counter-condition - the newly-formed elite unit I was asked to build as part of Homeland Internal Defense would be on call 24/7.

How quickly time flies. It's already been 18 months, and during that time, I would learn a second, bitter lesson. During the war, rescue teams were the closest thing to heroes, braving overwhelming odds to bring their brothers and sisters home. My first assignment with the recovery convoy had been difficult, but my second made the first look easy. Saving lives is never easy; you have to put yours on the line.

Knowing this does not weaken my resolve. Tiffa was right when she said that, even when the times are darkest and hope is lost, there were angels still on high, their blazing swords singing praises to God and the names of those they have sworn to defend with each thunderous strike. It took me three days after I had fully assembled my team that I finally gave it its name.

The Steel Angels.

-- Journal entry of Cross Lionheart, Lieutenant-Commander of the 11th Mobile Suit Team, Steel Angels ZAFT Special Forces. Written April 5th, C.E. 73

**X X X X X X**

Though most could never be able to tell what time it was in space, it was easy enough to guess when one lived on Earth or in her massive, orbiting colonies. Somehow the sun would always tell you when it was time to wake up, and when it was time to crash. That - and the fact that a good alarm clock could rouse you no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. The young man looked at the time. It was five in the morning. He had been tossing and turning for two hours, trying to return into Morpheus's warm embrace, but for some reason was unable to do so. His biological clock stubbornly refused to change no matter how much he took a hammer to it. Once, he tried, on a whim, to see how long he slept. Always, it was the same result - four hours, give or take a quarter of the clock. For two years now ever since he left the hospital, it hass always been that way. The undeniable feeling that if he slept longer than he should, he would find himself never waking up at all.

Every time he laid down to rest, his mind would recall that familiar sensation, as if trying to wonder why such a compulsion had taken root. And every time, he would slip into quiet slumber, the answers eluding him. It was the same with his memories. The first time this three-sided question came to him was on a day he considered to be the day of his birth, or more appropriately, the day of his rebirth. Like children who were born and those who died from old age and disease, the young man's life began in a hospital, beneath an unfamiliar ceiling. The price of his rebirth took the form of a cross-shaped scar on his left eye and chest. Marks, he knew, that could come only in battle. They were seared onto his skin, as if an eternal reminder of what he had fought for and the ideas he had believed in. His hypothesis was that his memories and that ever-present feeling that saw to him sleeping to less than five hours were a result of these scars

The answers would come to him one day, but today was like a hundred others in that it held no revelations.

He rose from the bed in a fashion so as not to disturb its other occupant, and walked over to his desk. When he sat down, he saw the hard evidence of where that question of his memories and his identity had arisen from. He had never liked wearing the accoutrements of his profession as it felt unnatural for some strange reason. Even so, he kept them close to him. They were a reminder of where everything he knew began.

"I suppose it's true what they say. Some memories will remain with you always..." he whispered softly to the quiet darkness, allowing his mind to drift back to where his 'life' as he knew, began.

**X X X X X X**

_**Cosmic Era 71, 4 weeks after the end of the Bloody Valentine War...**_

The Bloody Valentine War had left thousands dead, and there were still hospitals on the PLANTs and the colonies who were struggling to separate the wounded from the dead. The hospitals of the PLANTs that were the closest to the GENESIS battle-station had doubled as a processing station as well as a place to treat the injured. Though its staff were hardened to the end results of war, the task that was set for them was taxing to body and soul.

The fact was clearly evident on a nurse's face as she walked the corridors of the hospital's west wing where those that could be saved laid recovering. For the last three weeks, she had to patrol these hallways for two reasons: the newly-implemented 12-hour shift were both physically and mentally exhausting. The walks allowed her to recover some mental strength as well as allowing her to check on those whose chances of living were higher. She peered into a ward. More than half the beds held teenagers, all of whom were ZAFT Army pilots, many of whom who would live with the injuries they had sustained for the rest of their lives. And because of this, it was difficult to even speak words of encouragement.

Because of this, she sometimes found herself taking small comfort in the fact that one patient would never look at her with the silent loathing that many have given her. She stepped into the first-class ward where said patient rested, strapped to several life-support systems. His injuries had been enough to kill even the strongest Coordinator several times over; the fact that he had arrived in a coma instead of a body bag had astounded the doctors. And befitting their profession, they got right down to bringing him back before Charon ferried him across the Styx like he had so many others.

"Room 216. Patient John Doe."

Like every other room, this ward had everything that was needed to prolong the life of the patient and aid in his or her recovery. The only difference was that there was one machine that Doctor Alyssa Searrs, the Head Doctor of the hospital, had demanded no one touch on pain of being subjected to her infamous temper. The nurse did not recognise the machine, but if she had to make a guess, it was something that measured and recorded brain-wave activity. She was instructed by her supervisors not to touch it, and to inform Dr. Alyssa should there be any problems with it. Every time she looked at the device and how it was hooked up to the patient, she remembered the rumours regarding him. Most of the rumours were on how he was one of several subjects who were selected as a part of a trial study dealing with a new form of medical nano-technology that allowed doctors to treat injuries that no amount of medical skill could resolve. The nurse was aware of the historical basis behind the experiments, and that the machines were a combination of current technology and that lost centuries past. The decision to bring such experimental techniques when the side-effects of such treatment were unknown was undoubtedly one of utter desperation on the part of the new PLANT Council to save as many lives as they could.

Regardless, the nurse could not help but suppress a shudder whenever she gazed upon the young man lying on that bed. He conveyed the very impression of a man whose life hung on a thread. And not surprising, if the reports were to be believed. They had found him in the region near where the fighting had been the heaviest. Though his body was healing well, there had been concern about the metal piece that had been lodged in his head. Though it had been successfully removed, the Chief Surgeon had stated in his report that the fragment had severely damaged critical areas of the brain that dealt with motor function and memory. He had also stated that the chances of the patient suffering from retrograde amnesia was also very high. The nurse hoped that he wouldn't end up like some patients she knew of. She shook off such negative thoughts. No, this one would not end up dead. There was strength in those gentle, sleeping features.

"Who are you?" the nurse asked. No dog-tags, no I.D., and the chances of uncovering any of such was next to zero. The chaos caused when the Earth Alliance unleashing its nuclear arsenal had seen to it that soldiers sent back to the homeland from the front had no form of identification save that which was on their uniforms. As it was during a time of emergency, to confirm their identities with their respective divisional headquarters would take too long. The civilian hospitals had been forced to rely on the wounded to identify themselves once they regained consciousness.

It was astounding that, for all the efficiency of the PLANTs' administrative efficiency and the end of the Bloody Valentine War, that nothing could be found regarding this one patient's identity. There was a chance that he was someone with a family waiting for him, and they were probably informed that he had been killed-in-action (or missing-in-action, at the very least). Most of the other patients she had attended to had families or a place to call home, but this one had neither. The nurse herself tried to find out his identity with the assistance of her friend - the same one who had delivered this John Doe to the hospital by flying her battered GINN right into the very hospital's parking lot - by having the latter go through military channels while she went through civilian ones.

Suffice to say, the results had been both disappointing and mystifying. The only thing they knew about John Doe was that he was a Coordinator without a past, without a face and without a name. There was nothing about him in ZAFT's military - or PLANTs' civilian - records. The nurse and her friend had taken the search a step further, and had enquired through official channels regarding his identity, armed with what data they had, to see if he was from Earth or her affiliated colonies. The shock when they saw the results of their search had been palpable. There was nothing - absolutely nothing! - in their records either.

For someone who worked in the medical profession, for someone - Natural or Coordinator - to not be on record was impossible. It was stated in treaties that had bound Earth, the PLANTs, and the dozens of colonies within the Earth Sphere prior to the Bloody Valentine War that doctors who have assisted in the process that turned a Natural into a Coordinator keep a record of such. It stood to reason that even if he was created after the War began, he would be no older than a year at most. Which was impossible, as DNA and blood tests indicate that John Doe was in his teens and was aging normally, eliminating the hypothesis of growth-acceleration.

The nurse took down the readings on the machine's screens on her clipboard, wondering if he would be able to answer her questions when he emerged from his coma. She took one last look at John Doe's face before she went on to finish her rounds. Unlike most other soldiers she had seen so far, this one lacked any indication that the hell he had seen in real-life followed him into repose. As per her profession, the nurse had seen many things, some of which she wished she could forget - and some that she was glad had happened. This was one of the latter events. When he finally woke, he would be in a world where he would not end up so close to death's door as he had been when he was first brought in. It was something to look forward to. She reached out and brushed back a dark brown lock from the young man's face, hoping that no one would catch her in the act. If she was, she would never hear the end of it.

"This is surprising," a voice spoke, causing the nurse to almost jump through the ceiling. The latter whipped around to see a beautiful woman dressed in the uniform of ZAFT's space fleet. The markings of a squadron commander glowed on her collar, along with the armoured-fist-and-laurel symbol of the 157th Squadron.

"Tiffa!" the nurse said, "How long have you been standing there?"

The other woman smiled and raised five fingers, and the nurse flushed. That long...? Surprise and embarrassment were soon replaced by dread. The mischievous look on the other woman's face told the nurse that the former had yet to twist the knife.

"And no, I am not suffering from the Florence Nightingale Syndrome(1)," the nurse scowled, knowing what was in the other woman's mind.

Tiffa grinned, "Don't worry, Ashley. I didn't see a thing. And besides, he's probably the only guy you've met lately who listens to you without trying to get into your skirt."

"Thanks," Ashely said, "The last thing I need right now is my supervisor breathing down my neck about my lack of professionalism. You've met him before, so I think you know the kind of torture he is capable of dishing out."

Tiffa laughed, genuinely amused. Being in the military for as long as she had, the squadron commander was used to dealing with such people on a daily basis. Though there were times, however, when she wished she packed a tranquiliser gun to end such encounters before they drove her insane.

"It is something that comes with our jobs, Ash," Tiffa said as she walked over to the bed, studying its occupant, "But, sometimes, nothing in the book can prepare us for life's little surprises. Case in point is our sleeping prince."

The nurse read the subtle nuance of her friend's tone, "You found something?"

"I did, but I was left with more questions," Tiffa replied, knowing that Ashley was not going to like what she was about to hear, "Based on his description, which was the only workable clue I had on hand, I was able to finally find his record. It was buried under a mountain of paperwork in the Ministry of Defence. But that is where I hit a dead-end."

"A dead-end? That's impossible. Unless..." Ashley paused as the implications sank in, "Unless what is written about John Doe here is a clearance level higher than your friends in the Ministry."

"How did you guess?" Tiffa's look of mock-surprise served to annoy her friend further, "Anyways, that's where the search ended. It seems that his identity was so classified that all of his records were expunged save for his military rank, length of service and tour-of-duty records. The only other thing I found out was that only three people have full access to his records."

Ashley looked surprised. The nurse was familiar with military procedures due to her time serving as a combat medic, and she knew that the Homeland's Ministry of Defence kept a meticulous record of each and every soldier who had worn the uniform. Any regimental commander with the proper clearance levels could access records of any serviceman or servicewoman outside their division; it was baffling that only **three** people in an entire organisation had the clearance to this particular soldier's records. There just had to be an explanation for such secrecy.

"Who were they?" Ashley asked.

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you. First things first, two of those three people are dead. One of them is still alive, but finding that one is a royal pain in the ass," Tiffa pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket, "The two that I mentioned were dead were none other than our late ex-Chairman, Patrick Zala, and Commander Rau le Creuset."

"What?!" Ashley almost dropped her clipboard, "You're joking."

"I wish I was, Ash, but I had Jefferson in the Ministry's Internal Security Division confirm it for me. They were the two people in all of ZAFT who know about our John Doe," Tiffa nodded towards the young man. Ashley fell silent, her expression thoughtful. Tiffa waited patiently, knowing better than to interrupt. The nurse was the better detective, and could point out subtle hints that the normally-observant Tiffa would miss. And besides, she was in a good position to know the going-ons in her workplace where their John Doe had been treated.

Ashley had taken a quick glance at his file, and remembered the date he had been brought in. She also remembered that she had been working triple-shifts on that day, and even though it had been hectic period with so many wounded being brought in, she could dimly remember that he had been sent to one of the operating theatres. Question was which one? It was surely not the room that was written in the file, as that one was designated a specialist room and did not have the proper surgical equipment the ICU and Emergency Rooms had in quantity. One thing was for certain - the surgery **was** performed in her workplace. Ashley herself had wheeled him out of the ICU ward and brought him to the room he currently rested. Originally, Ashley had dismissed the inconsistency as a product of a misfiled report, but now she wasn't so sure. Something had taken place under both hers and Tiffa's noses, but what it was, they were unsure.

"So, what's our next move?" Ashley asked.

Tiffa rubbed her temples, "Well, we know for a fact that Chairman Zala is dead, so asking him is out of the question. No one knows what happened to Creuset, but I can bet a my stripes that he's dead as well. And I seriously doubt that those two, even if they were alive, would be willing to give us the answers we are looking for. So that leaves the third character who is by no means easy to find. She is a mercenary that ZAFT hires on occasion to help out with their black-ops. And here's the punch-line - it seems that our John Doe here is her partner."

A female mercenary? Hired by ZAFT? Wait a minute. It couldn't be...

"You don't mean...? If it is, then we're better off looking elsewhere for answers. Asking her for it means emptying PLANT of every dollar it has in its banks. And from what I heard, she's not exactly the type to tell the truth either."

"That's the way Ko Shiatar, the Unforgiving Raven, and those like her, operate. I can personally confirm that she is alive and kicking, as she was the one who brought your little squeeze," Tiffa giggled at Ashley's scowl, "to my ship. Bringing him here and telling my ship's commander to take a hike was perhaps not the wisest move on my part."

"I remember you telling me about that. He nearly had you court-martialled," Ashley replied, remembering the black look on Tiffa's face back then, and the subsequent description of her ship's commander being a heartless bastard. The war, Ashley had once told Tiffa, killed more the men and women that fought in it. It killed their ability to feel the pain of others.

"Forget it. You're getting transferred some time next month, aren't you? How about I meet you in the cafeteria after I've walked my rounds?" Ashley suggested, "You can fill me in on how things are going on your side."

"Done. But you're buying," Tiffa responded gamely. Ashley rolled her eyes, and the two girls headed for the door, which hissed open as soon as they stepped near it.

"Tiffa, I have a question that's been bugging me for some time now..."

"Shoot."

"Cute looks and the obvious reason that he is a fellow pilot aside, tell me why did you put in so much effort to save his life? Most people I know would have given up hope the moment they saw him. Those injuries he suffered, Tiffa, would have killed a Coordinator **many** times over," Ashley emphasised the word 'many'.

Tiffa did not answer immediately, and only answered after several minutes, "The same reason why you chose to be a nurse, Ash. I joined ZAFT for one reason, and one reason only - to protect our people and our homeland. I did not want a second Bloody Valentine to happen. You became who you are because you wanted to save lives. We could not save the thousands that have already died, but if we can save just one out of those thousands, all the pain and hardship we have seen and endured had not been for nothing. It may not be much, but it gives me the strength to keep walking."

Ashley nodded in silent agreement, "I'll see you at the cafeteria in 15, then."

"Sure."

Ashley walked away, leaving Tiffa Ayanami, MS squadron commander of the 157th ZAFT flotilla, alone in the room. The latter strode back to the bedside, pulling out a chain where a ornate ring of silver and gold hung. When she had begun the search for John Doe's identity, she had gone through his personal belongings. That was when she had found it. It was a simple piece of jewelry, but Tiffa had a gut feeling that it was much more than that. The ring clearly belonged to a girl, and Tiffa would go as far as to bet a year's salary that it was not Unforgiving Raven who gave it to him. It was beautiful, and the ornate scrollwork on its gleaming surface bespoke of hours of hard work and the high price-tag that came with its purchase.

Tiffa undid the clasp and placed it around his neck as gently as she could. She then leaned forward, her hands around the ring, and whispered into his ear, "I hope that when you wake up, that this reminds you that there is someone waiting for you to come home, soldier."

The female squadron commander didn't expect him to respond to her words. Things like that only happened in cheesy soap operas and movies. Words of encouragement and reminder of promises made while they were still in the land of the living were not enough to wake anyone from the timeless limbo of a coma. Reality was not that kind. But, somehow, she hoped, for his sake, that it will, just once, be merciful.

Tiffa turned to leave the room when something caused her to whip her head back towards the bed, unable to believe what had just transpired. John Doe's hand gripped hers with an unrelenting strength, causing the ring to bite into her flesh. His voice, like his eyes, were not the ones of a man who had just risen from a month-long torpor. Regardless, this unexpected turn of events soon had Tiffa on her backside.

He looked down at her, "Who are you? I heard some people talking a few minutes ago, and then felt a hand on my chest. What's going on here? Where am I?"

Tiffa, for her part, was mesmerised by the young man's eyes. It was a shade of purple of the moment when day became night, a brief flash of silent twilight that was as beautiful as it was addictive to see. Innocent yet strong, proud and yet humbled, those same eyes told an unspoken story that she was all too familiar with. Tiffa promptly stomped on the cat that had run away with her tongue, and got back to her feet, "May I have my hand back? Thanks. My name is Lieutenant Tiffa Ayanami. I was the one who brought you here when you were seriously injured."

"Injured? How? What happened to me? Where am I exactly?"

"I'll answer your questions if you can answer mine first. Do you know who you are?"

"Of course I do, I'm..." and he trailed off, confusion evident on his face. Even before he spoke his next words, Tiffa had anticipated them.

"I'm sorry. My mind's a mess at the moment. I can't seem to think straight."

"Not surprising. Take your time. You've just woken up from a long nap, after all. I'm gonna get a nurse or a doctor and tell them you're awake," Tiffa said. The young man nodded assent, even as he put a hand to his head, a clear sign that he was in pain. She had not taken three steps from the room's door when the young man's voice caused her to run back in.

"What the Hell is this?!"

The young man's eyes were wide with mingled horror and shock, and Tiffa saw something that made her take a step back. As he was sitting upright, the female ZAFT officer could see the cause of the former's distress. There was a cable running to a cybernetic interface that was, somehow, surgically attached to the base of his skull.

_'What in the nine hells is that?' _Tiffa asked, even as she moved to prevent the young man from forcibly ripping it - and any of the medical link-ups - from his body.

"What the Hell is this? What did you people do to me? Is this the reason why I cannot remember anything about myself?" he demanded.

"Calm down, damn it! I brought you in, not patched you up!" Tiffa said even as she tried to restrain him. She was shocked at how strong he was. Tiffa was a second-generation Coordinator; that meant her strength, reflexes and thought processes would make any Natural look like a snail. But, the Coordinator she was **trying** to hold down was on the verge of throwing her across the room. The fact that he had been in a coma for over a month - and injured! - made it all the more unbelievable. Tiffa quickly slammed the 'Call Nurse' button by the side of the bed before returning to the fight. She could see terror in his eyes. Nothing the nurses and doctors in the hospital would be able to alleviate that fear. If she didn't do something soon, he could end up doing something that would very well put him in his grave.

"Calm down! You're not helping yourself here! You're just gonna make things worse by sheer accident alone!" Tiffa said in her most reassuring voice while trying to keep the young man from falling out of his bed in their struggle.

"Worse? How can I make things worse? There's no way I can make things worse than they already are! You see this thing? What kind of sick experiment have I been subjected to? I cannot remember anything...let alone my own name..."

Tiffa's eyes widened briefly, remembering what her friend had mentioned about the possibility of the young man suffering from retrograde amnesia. To have one's memories and identity taken away, and know that it had been taken, was perhaps the most frightening thing in the world. What could she say to alleviate that fear?

"Did I do something wrong? What manner of crime did I commit that not only led to my memories and identity being taken away, but for me to be leashed in such a fashion?" he asked, his gaze demanding answers that Tiffa did not have. This was not an act, Tiffa saw. There was nothing false about the torment in his eyes and voice that made her heart ache. Nevertheless, his words and the direction of his thoughts saw to it that he stopped struggling - a small comfort for which the female officer was grateful for. Strong as a gorilla was an understatement, she thought in a moment of levity, and frowned when she saw a thin trickle of blood flowing out of his nose.

Without thinking, she wiped it away, even as her mind digested the questions he had asked a minute ago. They depressed her, before a white fury blasted it away. She had not saved him only to watch him self-destruct. If he had lost everything, then by the gods, she would give him something that would rekindle his desire to live again, even if it was for another day!

Tiffa turned the young man's face so that their eyes locked for the second time in 15 minutes, "Look at me and listen. Yesterday has come and gone; don't worry about the things that you cannot remember and cannot change. You're alive, and that means you have something that many people no longer have - a tomorrow."

"But I..."

"I read once that for an individual to have an identity, she must have her memories. But, those very memories are made of the moments you are living. You're alive right now - and that is all that should matter. Don't worry about the past. One day, someday, it will come back."

The despairing look in his eyes started to fade. Tiffa smiled inwardly. She was getting through to him. She took his hand and placed it over her heart, her playful side and her mature side snickering mischievously, for once in agreement with her actions.

"My heart, like yours, is still beating. The war you and I fought in was one where thousands of hearts like ours will beat no more. We are both still alive. If you cannot remember your past, then make one," she smiled, mischief in the curve of her lips. The young man was blushing furiously. She got what she wanted.

"How do I do that when I cannot remember my old one? Wouldn't I be lying to myself if I did that?" the young man struggled to keep his voice even and was, to Ashley's view, failing miserably. Who could blame him? His hand was kept between Tiffa's breasts, and the latter was clearly not letting go. Ashley rolled her eyes upon seeing the playful, yet warm, glint in her friend's violet eyes. She lost count of how many guys would give their right arms to be in John Doe's position.

"Your past - the one you're hoping to remember - is gone. All that is left is the past you can make here and now. It may not look or feel like much, but it is something you can believe will not slip away from you."

The room was silent as the young man digested the knowledge that he had been given - and that he was slowly starting to realise. When he finally spoke, it held hope in its timbre, "You're right. One day, my past may return. But until that day comes, I will need a name to go with my face. I can tell that you don't know my original name, and I'm certain that John Doe is not it."

Tiffa slapped herself. She had forgotten that little detail.

"Point," the blue-haired officer pointed out, "I doubt that you - or anyone else, for that matter - would want to be called John Doe. Any ideas on a name? Ashley? I'm running a blank here..."

"Not surprising. You were practically flirting with him for the past 15 minutes!" the nurse said.

"Oy..."

"Okay, okay, lemme think, will you?"

Tiffa turned back to the young man, "Anything?"

"I can't think of one off-hand. My headache isn't so bad now, but I still find it difficult to think straight. I suppose I have to leave my naming to you. Just please...make sure it's not something that sounds funny..." he said, the hesitance in his voice not going unnoticed by the two women in the room. Tiffa and Ashley exchanged a brief look. It was clear to them that asking for help was not something he was used to. It was the mark of a person used to standing alone, or someone who was too stubborn to ask for help. The jury would have to debate on that one.

"Bad idea," Ashley said, "Knowing Tiffa here, she would end up calling you Nutcase or Spankster."

"Oy..." Tiffa's right eye started twitching. Ashley stuck out her tongue.

"I wasn't asleep not too long ago, Tiffa-san," the young man said, picking up both womens' names through the conversation, "And my head was not so foggy that I did not pick up snippets of your conversation. I heard you tell Ashley-san that you were the person who saved me."

Tiffa knew where this conversation was about to go. She was not prepared for the responsibility that was about to be dropped on her lap.

"My job was simply to save as many lives as I can. This is the first time I've ever had the chance to see the face of the person I had saved. With that in mind, I think my naming you is not a good idea."

"I understand, but I believe you're the most qualified person to do it. Think of it as...uh..as three wishes that I'll owe you if you grant me this last one."

"Huh?" Tiffa looked perplexed.

"First wish was that someone would save me. That was when you came. Second time was when you gave me hope. This is the third wish."

The blue-haired ZAFT officer fell silent. Tiffa found the young man's logic strange, and knew that the latter would keep his word even though she didn't want him to. He would have a hard road ahead of him as he tried to find once more the memories he lost. Throw in the fact that he was the sort who disliked asking people for help and the task would be all the harder.

"Alright, I'll give you a name. But there's one thing you have to remember," Tiffa said, "One day, you will find those memories you lost. But, it is a double-edged sword, boya. You will remember everything you have done, both good and bad. And on that day, you will ask yourself if regaining those memories was worth it."

"Tiffa...!" Ashley said, her voice cracking like a whip.

"Good or bad," Tiffa continued despite her friend's censorious tone, "remember that with this name, you are no longer a ghost. You are reborn once more."

The young man nodded his head in agreement, his purple eyes burning with an inner light reminiscent of long-dead heroes. Tiffa had to fight to look away; the conviction and fierce pride there was mesmerising. But, before she did, she saw the wound over his left eye...and she smiled. She knew what name to give him.

And it fit him perfectly.

**(O)**

"Cross Lionheart. Lieutenant Commander of ZAFT's 11th Mobile Suit Squadron," Cross spoke, looking at the dog-tags in his hands. He tossed them up in the air, and watched as it slowly descended back into his waiting hand. It was a ritual that comforted the young squadron commander; it made him feel that he was slowly reaching his goal of finding out who he truly was. But, despite so, there was a sense of unease that refused to go away.

Finding out that he had been a Coordinator after he had been told about the Earth Sphere's situation at that time was a big enough shock, but it was only months later that he started becoming uneasy about unearthing a past lost to him. Cross knew who he was now and had a place to call his own. The moment he unearthed his past, he would have to make a decision between remaining Cross Lionheart and returning to whom he once was. Honestly, he liked the person he was now, and the things he had done in the two years after the Bloody Valentine War ended.

But, his past, a nameless ghost, refused to leave. It whispered softly that there was someone waiting for him to return home. But where was home? And who was that someone? He knew, deep inside, that he **had** left someone behind when he fought in the war. It was not something that could be easily ignored, and was frustrating as all of them were nameless and faceless. The idea that he may have left behind his parents, siblings and a loved one made it all the more agonising. The last proved to be especially painful. He knew that even if he couldn't remember her, she would remember him. She would be heartbroken when she learns that someone else had taken a place in his heart, and that losing that person would just be as unbearable.

Cross looked back at the bed, at the second occupant that rested there, and wondered what he had done to have won the heart of such a woman. If anything, Cross believed that the tables should be turned. She had done so much for him and rarely asked for anything more than his company. He would never have believed that they would have become as intimate as they were now, nor would he had expected that, months after his discharge from hospital, he would be in command of a Mobile Suit squadron as her second-in-command.

She was more than his saviour, this beautiful valkyrie who had yet to wake. Cross remembered wondering if their attraction was due to their first meeting, but it was a question made irrelevant in the end. He would give his life to protect her, not because she saved his life, but because she was the kind of person that the human race needed more than anything. Her formidable skills, married to her beliefs to defend the helpless and the innocent, mirrored his own. Cross remembered the day he was discharged from hospital, when Tiffa had come by on her car to take him to the nearest ZAFT base. She had told him ahead of time that the only records about him indicated that he was a certified Mobile Suit pilot and that he was the last survivor of an MS squadron destroyed in the final days of the Bloody Valentine War. In addition to that, Tiffa had told him that he held the rank of lieutenant, and was the demolished squadron's second-in-command (which, he deduced later on, was possibly the reason why she gave him the job when she formed the Steel Angels).

His first week at the base proved that Tiffa had not been lying to him. He **knew** how to pilot and program a Mobile Suit. And he was very, **very** good at it. Even a Level Seven (or Level-Sayonara, as the flight instructors would call it, on the basis that even members of the Bloodhawk squadrons came out of it on the verge of collapse) difficulty simulation barely had him breaking a sweat. But, it was during war games that he found out more about himself other than the fact that he could give anyone who fought against him a hard time.

The first thing was that he had a rare trait possessed by Coordinators and Naturals, though few have ever manifested it. Dubbed by scientists in PLANT and on Earth called the 'SEED', the short-form acronym for Super Evolutionary Element Destined-factor, it was believed to be the next stage of human evolution. It granted its possessor enhanced awareness and inhuman strength and reflexes, and was triggered by moments of extreme stress and trauma.

The second thing was that both his instructors and superiors agreed that his skill in Mobile Suit operations was of such a degree that the only explanation that they could give was that he had been trained from a very young age. Marry those two facts together, and they had a good explanation why, despite only a year of military service, he had made lieutenant. What surprised them was why the Bloodhawks had never inducted him into their ranks, considering his stellar record. Rumour had it that he had offended some high-ranking Bloodhawk, but who that person was, Cross could not remember. Regardless, the subcommander of the Steel Angels deduced that everything was part of the reason why his identity was regarded as above Top Secret and why only three people in the entire Earth Sphere had access to it.

Tiffa had been right when she said that asking the first two would have been an utter waste of time and effort. Neither Patrick Zala nor Rau le Creuset were the types to give him what he wanted without asking for a devil's bargain in return. It had led to an uncomfortable deduction that he was no different from them, if the old maxim held true that birds of a feather flocked together. The third person, the mercenary Ko Shiatar, had disappeared without a trace after the end of the war. Cross assumed that she was either getting ready for the next one or had retired from the profession.

He had attempted to track the female mercenary down but all he found was a letter attached to a katana in the hotel's security vault, where she had stayed for two weeks before leaving. The letter, much to his surprise, had been addressed to him. He could remember its contents, apologising that he was not yet ready to receive the answers he sought, and that both the sword and the title Ko Shiatar had left him were meant to be his. The Unforgiving Raven had promised him that they would meet in person one day.

"Lion of Heaven..." Cross whispered. A title, a sword that dated back over a thousand years, a ring-necklace, the cross-shaped wounds over his left eye and on his chest and the unparalleled piloting skills that earned him a reputation even amongst the Bloodhawks - all of them were crucial clues to a past he could barely remember. Nonetheless, it was that title that Cross had made his callsign. A callsign that would become as renowned as Tiffa's own 'Azure Pegasus'.

Cross reached out and took hold of the katana Ko Shiatar had left him. In the darkness, he could make out the ornate scrollwork on its _saya _(or scabbard), and he felt the weight of centuries in its perfect symmetry and balance. He flicked the blade out, allowing the light of the stars to reflect of silvery steel that had seen a hundred battles. Laser-etched onto the blade were two names, both in Japanese. One was _**'Lion of Heaven'**_The second, on its opposite side, more faded than the first, was _**'Nanatsu-yoru'**_, or Seven Nights. It had not gone unnoticed by both his superiors and his subordinates that he was almost never without the sword by his side. He had sparred against his fellow Steel Angels and several members of his crew, many of whom were familiar in various martial arts ranging from kenjutsu to karate-do.

The ring-necklace, the second thing the Unforgiving Raven had left him, which was special to him in some unspoken way, was right where he wanted it to be - around the slender neck of the sleeping Tiffa Ayanami. He remembered the day he gave her, and how she had blushed. It had been akin to a marriage proposal; the only thing lacking to make it official was the marriage certificate all couples received when they registered it. Tiffa had pointed out that the ring-necklace was more than enough. She did not need official documentation to show the world that he was her man. Cross realised then that he had been staring at Tiffa's sleeping form, and wondered if he could capture such loveliness on paper. As she was not wearing anything, the way the blankets clung to her curvaceous, lithe frame and the way her long hair draped over her caused his imagination to take a detour. He remembered the first time they spent the night together and, when morning came, he overheard several soldiers - officers among them, three of whom were part of the Bloodhawks - spreading the word that the Lion of Heaven had done what no other could do. He had tamed the wild Azure Pegasus.

It turned out that those same soldiers had tried to win Tiffa's affections, to no avail. Expensive gifts and flattery did not so much as turn her head. She was, like her callsign and the legendary creature of Greek mythology, not about to let anyone ride her. This legendary beast chose her rider. It was fitting, Cross thought, that her love for flying at full-burn and riding horses had earned Tiffa her callsign. The image of her, riding astride the winged horse of legend, was definitely something worth drawing. It would make a good birthday present, which was just around the corner.

But, there were things Cross would never tell Tiffa. He remembered when they first started dating, there were instances that when she kissed him, he would see her, briefly, either as a red-haired woman or a pink-haired one. He would have chalked it up to his imagination, but that wasn't the only time he had had such hallucinations. There were times when he and Tiffa made love that, instead of his lover's dark blue hair and violet eyes, he would see a crimson-haired girl with grey eyes looking down at him with lust and desire in her every movement. Those same eyes had also burned with fierce determination and wrath, uncaring of the terrible toll that she would need to pay to satiate the latter. And, there were times whenever he stood on the bridge of the _Enuma-Elish_, the Nazca-class destroyer the Steel Angels were assigned, that Cross would find himself in unfamiliar surroundings. The familiar faces of the _Enuma-Elish_'s crew were replaced by those he did not recognise, and the one sitting on the captain's chair was not the ship's commander and Tiffa's friend, Sheila D'Avenant, but a lovely, pink-haired girl whose sky-blue eyes made his heart ache with the intensity of the emotion in them.

Cross could not tell if they were people his past self had known, but he could not dismiss the feeling of familiarity and the quiet perplexity that came with first meetings. He knew these two women, that they were important to someone. But who? It had been difficult to work past the emotions that seeing their faces had engendered, but Cross was sticking to his decision of staying by Tiffa's side. His past was gone, its story ended. Whether he regained his past memories or not was immaterial to what he had now. He had a future, and someone to share it with.

Shaking his head, Cross forced himself to return to reality. A look at the clock told him that he had been in his own head for the better part of an hour, and he rolled his eyes in annoyance. His habit of zoning out as he delved deep into his thoughts had been impossible to kick. And whenever that happened, he turned to the one thing that would prevent him doing so again - he got back to work. And as the Steel Angel's second-in-command, there was never any shortage of it.

Cross strode over to his desk, took up a folder, and returned to the chair. The missions - and the readiness of his team and the ship's crew - took precedence over his search for something that was slowly becoming meaningless. If he continued wasting time searching for impossible answers, someone was going to pay for his distraction. The slender holo-screen lit up, requesting Cross's identification and clearance code, before allowing him to return to the page he had earmarked hours ago. Even though he hadn't been given full details of the assignment other than a special transfer order, Cross knew what he and Tiffa were getting their team into.

He hoped that the two other teams - one from the Earth Forces and one from Orb - did as well. Neutralising the threat of the anti-Coordinator faction, Ockzam's Razor, and the anti-Natural group of Genesis's Light, was not an easy task. The full details of their current mission would be given to Cross when the _Enuma-Elish_ reached its destination - the neutral, newly-built PLANT of Neo-Stratos, which hovered over the Earth like a verdant star. There, the three teams would receive their new equipment before meeting up with a SENTINEL task-force. Cross scrolled down further, and his amethyst eyes narrowed, roiling with violence. What he was looking upon was a newspaper report from the ESNN(2), which detailed another terrorist attack committed by the agents of Genesis's Light in Pakistan. Over three dozen people had been injured, and ten killed. Ockzam's Razor retaliated within days, and their revenge attack had seen more graves dug. Every attempt to negotiate with either faction had ended in failure, and the governments of the Earth Sphere had had enough.

The gloves were off, and the Steel Angels were chosen to be among the first wave to cut the legs from under the two terrorist organisations. And while they tried to do so, secret service agents drawn from the neutral, EA and PLANT-affiliated countries attempted to uncover - and eliminate -their backers. The only question was who would strike the first blow: the men-in-black, or the knights-in-armour. Cross chuckled, remembering how the _Enuma-Elish_'s Chief Tactical Officer, Ken Wang, had entered into a side bet with his friend in PLANT's Internal Security Agency on who would get first dibs of balancing the books.

The crew of the _Enuma-Elish_ and the Steel Angels stood out like sore thumbs in ZAFT due to a shared belief that Coordinators and Naturals were not as different as most people would like to believe. One cannot erase the inherent flaws of humanity by perfecting one's genes, nor can they raise the value of a Coordinator's life higher than that of a Natural's. It had led to uncomfortable moments, but it had cheered Cross considerably to know that the crew of the ship he was on shared the same beliefs as the Steel Angels. That alone was enough for Cross to entrust his life to them. Of course, there were those in ZAFT - and PLANT - who jeered at such naivete. His calm reply in the face of such scorn had left his detractors incapable of replying or wrong-footed. If the Steel Angels were called fools, he alone earned the name of Cyber-Fool due to the cybernetic implant he had received during his surgery two years ago.

The damage, he had been told, was beyond what his advanced Coordinator metabolism could handle. The cybernetic implant had been their last resort to ensure that he could live normally. It had been a gamble, as the technique had been experimental, but it had paid off handsomely. The side effect of the operation was that the implant was clearly visible, which had led to him growing his hair long to cover it as best as he could. The sharp, paralysing pains that had sent him to his knees proved to be a blessing in disguise when he realised that they had other advantages as well. After making a few modifications to the implants, Cross could literally connect himself to the main computer of a Mobile Suit, allowing him to pilot and reprogram it in a heartbeat. That, combined with his SEED-Mode, had led to him almost frying the mainframe's processing datacore as it struggled to keep up with him.

It had left the scientists in ZAFT's R&D Division excited. They had wanted to perform more experiments, to see if such advancements could give the military the edge they needed, but Cross had told them that it was out of the question. Regardless, the research team had given Cross's ability a name and a limit to how long he could use it without risk of serious injury.

_**"The Overdrive System has its limits, commander. There is no doubt in our minds that the moment you choose to call upon it, there is no one on the battlefield who will be able to match you. But, there is a limit as to how long you can use the System before the interface arrays that link your brain to the cybernetic implants melt from overheat."**_

_**"How long?"**_

_**"One hour. No more."**_

When Tiffa got wind of that, she almost ripped the cybernetic implant out of his head to prevent such an event from ever happening. Cross fought back a boyish giggle, remembering how she had him in a lock that, despite his strength, he was unable to break. The rest of the team had seen Tiffa's attempt to remove the implant as another one of their public displays of affection. The worry in her eyes, however, was real.

The Steel Angels and _Enuma-Elish_'s crew had lost count of the attempts Tiffa had tried to remove the cybernetic implant, and there was a running bet on if and when the Azure Pegasus would be successful in her attempt. One such attempt involved her using duct tape; suffice to say, he lost a handful of hair in **that** attempt, and the crew had flinched at his display of agony. He laughed at that memory, a little louder than he intended it to be. He arrested it before his peals of laughter woke the room's other occupant. A brief glance over to the bed told her that she was already awake. Her violet eyes locked onto his.

"Can't sleep, can ya, lover?" Tiffa asked in a low whisper.

"Old habits die hard, Tiffa," Cross replied as he put aside the folder.

The Azure Pegasus let out a soft sigh as she got out of bed, wrapping the blanket around her body, before proceeding to sit on her lover's lap. Whenever she did that, the Lion of Heaven found himself incapable of thinking. He had seen what was under the blanket that Tiffa had wrapped around her body before, but the sight of her as she was, so seductive and alluring, had never failed to capture his attention. And in the position she was in, Cross had to struggle to keep his mind from thinking about anything remotely sexual.

"I know what you were thinking about. Before we took on this assignment, we were one of twelve teams that guarded 4 PLANTs. Many people see us as one of the best team there is in all of ZAFT. Now, our responsibilities will be heavier, and the price of failure, higher. We won't be able to call on the guys from the Constellation(3)," Tiffa said, referring to the Homeland 2nd Defence Squadron, formed in the days after the Bloody Valentine War to act as a rapid-response strike force, "nor can we expect the cavalry to bail us out if we screw up. I really hope that the teams Orb and the EA send are the best they have - because if not, we'll get our asses kicked before long."

"You've always been able to read me like a book. It makes it difficult for me to surprise you any more," Cross said, wrapping his arms around Tiffa, pulling her close.

"Actually, there is one you can pull off. When we get rid of those punks from Genesis's Light and Ockzam's Razor, there won't really be any reason for us to stay in the military, will there? Maybe this will be the first step to laying down our swords."

Cross had an idea of what Tiffa was implying, but he didn't want to say it out loud yet, "There will always be a need for people like us, Tiffa. There's no telling when another group of maniacs will start a second Bloody Valentine. And besides, who knows how long **this** assignment could take? It could very well take years."

"True. But you know that the day will come when our fighting days will come to an end. Isn't that the goal we've been working so hard to reach? We've come a long way as individuals and as a team. If we fight every single adversary that comes our way, we will run the risk of losing the things most precious to us."

"It's part of the job, Tiffa. You've known that longer than I have," Cross could tell that something was troubling his lover, "If we don't fight, then someone else will have to. We both know that is

something I will not let happen. Some of these creeps are not your run-of-the-mill terrorists. Many of them are professional ex-soldiers. Hell, we even have their military records in here," and indicated the folder, "These guys know how our military appratus better than we know ourselves. That's why our superiors send in the mavericks; both to get us out of their hair and because they know we're the ones that can clean up this mess."

Tiffa didn't say anything, but held Cross tighter. That was when Cross knew that something was not right. He knew the mood Tiffa was in right now. She was scared - and Tiffa was not one easily frightened.

"Tiffa, I've learnt that this job is unending, unforgiving and thankless. And those are its good points." Cross said, hoping that it would put his lover in a better mood. When he felt something moist and warm on his shoulder, he realised that it had been the wrong thing to say. He knew he had to say something or she would be upset for the rest of the day. Cross pulled her close enough so that he could whisper what he wanted to say in her ear. Words, he knew, she needed to hear.

"Do you remember what you told me once? That assignments like this get done a helluva lot faster when you've something or someone to go back to. You're right. Maybe it **is **time I started thinking about settling down. I don't know if I have the right to such a life, but it is a dream I hope to see realised some day."

"Will I be in it?" Tiffa asked, her voice soft.

"You will be. There's a place in it for you. Why? Are you worried some other girl will take your place?" Cross asked, humour in his voice. Tiffa's reply was to laugh, and hug him tighter, as if she was holding on to dear life. Cross felt her warm flesh against his own and, while he would have liked to remain in that position for a while longer, he knew that time and tide waited for no man.

"Tiffa, I'm going to get us some coffee and breakfast from the cafeteria. We'll talk more about this when I get back, okay?" Cross said. Tiffa wiped away her tears as she got off her lover's lap and nodded, "Sure."

As Tiffa returned to the bed, Cross pulled on his trousers and a loose shirt. Walking around in his previous state of undress was not exactly a good idea. He leaned over the bed, gave Tiffa a quick kiss, and left the room.

Tiffa, alone now in the silent darkness, went over the dream she had had earlier. No, a nightmare. One so real that every moment was as clear as reality. It was not the first nor the second time she had had it. They began the day Cross had accepted their present assignment. Each time she had it, she would roll over to face her lover and hold him tight. But, now that she was on her own, all she could do was curl herself up into a ball and fight back the terror that her nightmare had spawned. It was a fear - one that she could not name - that she had felt on the same day she gave Cross his name.

She had never told him what happened after she had left his room, and of the conversation that had taken place. What made the coming events harder to bear was that she had fallen in love with Cross, and him with her. Neither of them saw it coming nor did they have any reason to not pursue the relationship. Tiffa didn't care what she had been told, and while Cross had proven himself a very capable and reliable person on many an occasion, she dreaded the day when he would learn what she had known for the past two years.

Tiffa didn't want to lose Cross. She didn't want him to become something other than what he was now. And no matter how much she wished it, the Azure Pegasus could not forget the conversation she had had with the Unforgiving Raven two years ago.

**(O)**

_**Cosmic Era 71, 4 weeks after the end of the Bloody Valentine War...**_

"Where did you get the idea for my name? Don't get me wrong, I like it. Though I cannot help being curious as to what inspired you..." the newly-named Cross Lionheart asked the blue-haired female ZAFT officer.

"Not too sure as to what inspired me, but it fits you somehow," Tiffa grinned, running a hand through her hair, "As promised, you now have a name. And so, that means you owe me big-time, buddy."

"Thank you," Cross blushed, "I hope I can live up to the name you've given me. Though it feels like a name given to a prince..."

"Pah. What's in a name, Cross? It's important to the one given, make no mistake about that," Tiffa replied.

"Indeed," Ashley nodded, closing her eyes so that Tiffa would not see the gleam of mischief in them, "But then, I guess all women love the chance to name their boy toys, eh, Tiffa-chan?"

Tiffa became a human tomato in a heartbeat, and Cross was on the verge of a meltdown. 'Yes, score!' Ashley cheered inwardly, waving flags with ZAFT symbols on them, before outwardly erupting in laughter. Patients in adjacent wards could only look up in curiousity upon hearing the near-hysterical laughter. It took a while for Ashley to calm down, but when she did, she looked at them curiously.

"What really happened between you two while I was away, huh? I hope it's nothing improper," Tiffa shook a fist in Ashley's direction,"as he has just woken up from a coma. But then, if he's this pecker after waking up, it makes me wonder what he'll be like when he's up and running."

The libidinous expression on Ashley's face did not go unnoticed by Tiffa. The latter swore to get even with her friend when she got the chance, before asking just how long she had been standing there.

"When you took his hand into yours. As your friend, I must say that this is very inappropriate behaviour for a member of our homelands' armed forces. And its officer, to top it all off!" Ashley replied with a wink, and smirked as the two reddened again.

"Please don't make a big deal about it," Cross spoke before Tiffa could protest, "Ayanami-san did nothing inappropriate. All she did was prove invaluable help to someone who needed it badly."

Ashley raised one eyebrow, and nodded at Tiffa in approval, "You've chosen well, Tiffa. This one is **way** better than that hotshot from the 28th squadron. He has manners, at least. Now, let me look at you. Well...looks like you're wide awake and fully aware of your surroundings despite the fact you've woken up from a coma and from wounds that would kill a normal man twenty times over. Unusual, I admit, but who am I to question a miracle when it comes my way?"

"I think you can thank this," Cross indicated the cybernetic implant, "for my lively resurrection. Can you tell me the reason why I have this cable attached to my head?"

Ashley had to concede the point that if anyone woke from a long nap and found a cable attached to the base of one's skull, they would wake up screaming bloody murder.

"Oh that...! Well, uhh...there are reasons for that cable. I'm not sure as to what it is, exactly, but I'm sure Doctor Alyssa - she's one of those who performed the surgery - has the answers. I'll see if I can get her or, failing that, one of the other doctors who did," Ashley said, hoping that they **would** have the details. Relying on her was like relying on a blind man without his walking stick. What more, her intuition was practically screaming its head off, telling her that not everything was as it seems. She grabbed hold of Tiffa as she left the room, "As for you, young lady, visiting hours are over."

"Hey...!"

"Sorry about this, Cross, but the doctors will want to do some tests on you to see if you have really recovered. I can't have your girlfriend in the room while they do so. Sorry, standard procedures. And don't you flash the badge at me, Tiffa, because your bars are not going to let you get a free show," Ashley turned her attention to her friend, who turned red for the third time in sixty minutes. The golden-haired nurse swore that if this went on, Tiffa would die of embarrassment before the day was through.

"You...!" Tiffa growled, "Oh, you are so gonna get it, Ashley!"

"Yes, yes, I've heard **that** tired threat before..." the nurse deadpanned as she pulled the female ZAFT officer out of the room, missing the dumbstruck look of the patient within. Only when they were ten feet from the room did Ashley release Tiffa's arm. The look on the face of the latter was thunderous, demanding an explanation as to such a hasty retreat. Tiffa did not see the nervousness in her friend's eyes and posture. The show of authority and confidence had been just that - a show.

"What the hell is all this about, Ashley? You're acting as though being in that room warrants a firing squad," Tiffa said, her tone waspish. She straightened out her uniform as Ashley's insistent grip had messed it up somewhat.

"Shh!" Ashley looked around to see if what had just happened had remained unseen and unheard, "Listen to me carefully, because I'm only going to say this once. When you pressed the 'Call Nurse' button just now, it not only notified my station. It also sent a signal to ZAFT HQ. The reply-signal came a minute later. It was coded Omega-Kaiser 13. That is beyond Top Secret."

Tiffa's eyes widened. She was familiar with every priority-level military code there was. Omega-Kaiser 13 was the highest in the entire priority listing. Missions and assignments prioritised at such a level were given to elite squadrons and/or operatives who were given whatever was necessary to see to the completion of their task.

"I was instructed to make sure that no one enters that room before Military Intelligence arrives to conduct an 'Emergency Debriefing'. If they see you here, they may very well consider you - and maybe even me - as a security risk and we could both end up disappearing. I recommend that you make yourself scarce. If I'm able to, I'll call you tonight to tell you if it's safe to come back or not."

Tiffa nodded in assent. It was clear in Ashley's tone and body language that she was not joking. Mouthing a silent thank you, Tiffa turned around and headed for the nearest exit as quickly as she could. She walked as casually as she could, hiding her nervousness beneath a mask on nonchalance. A brief look behind her revealed her friend standing like a guard in front of the room she had just been dragged out of moments ago, her expression of unease visible even from where Tiffa was. The blue-haired female ZAFT officer did not blame her. Military Intelligence and PLANTs' Internal Security agents were not known for being pleasant company - and both organisations had eyes and ears everywhere.

Tiffa scrutinised her surroundings even as she pressed the 'Down' button for the elevator. As a result, she did not see nor hear the elevator's chime, indicating its arrival, nor the soft hiss of its doors opening.

"I think it would be in your best interest to get into the elevator, Ayanami Tiffa," spoke a voice from within the elevator. Tiffa whirled, and her eyes widened. Who she saw was absolutely the last person she had ever expected to see - in a hospital, no less!

"Ko Shiatar...?"

The Unforgiving Raven smiled, even as she pulled the other woman into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, Ko immediately pressed the emergency stop button. Tiffa was surprised that the alarm did not go off when the elevator came to a complete halt. She figured that Ko must have disabled the alarm prior to getting on the elevator - a sign that the female mercenary wanted to have a private conversation.

"Well, it's clear you want a private conversation, considering all this. Question on the table is why," Tiffa said, even as she eyed the mercenary for any visible weapons. There were none. At least, none that could be hidden, considering the ensemble the female mercenary was wearing. Ko Shiatar clearly had a taste for dark-coloured clothing that bordered on scandalous, considering how much skin was revealed. She wore a dark-purple body suit lined in gold that emphasised her curves, a segment of which was removed in the torso area to reveal the tantalising curve of her full breasts. Black leather leggings, sleeveless coat and high-heeled boots completed the Unforgiving Raven's attire - all of which were adorned with golden crosses and thunderbolts. Throw that with Ko Shiatar's exotic beauty, and it was a combination that would turn heads and raise temperatures. The Unforgiving Raven's hair was longer than Tiffa's, cascading almost to her knees, with a patch of white hair that covered the right side of her face. Her skin was pale, as if she suffered from albinism.

"It will take ZAFT's M.I. agents at least ten minutes to get here. Plenty of time for a small chat between friends," Ko's left red eye gleamed playfully.

"Since when have we become friends, Shiatar?" Tiffa crossed her arms, her eyes cold slits.

"When you decided to give our mutual friend who sleeps in Room 216 a name. Cross Lionheart. A good name, I must say. It's much better than his real one. I was instructed to give him by the powers that be his old name and tell him to go meet someone when he regains his strength. But, now that I think about it, this might actually be better for him in the long run."

"Then why didn't you? If he knew his real name, he would be able to find his way home back to the people who love him."

Ko shook her head, "Believe me when I say that that is a life you don't want him to go back to. It might seem like something worth returning to, but it isn't."

"You're joking. You're gonna deny him a chance at learning the truth? That's even worse than him losing his memory in the first place," Tiffa fired back, before her anger receded as something clicked in place, "Wait a minute. If what you say is true, then you are not the only person who has plans for him. Someone else does as well."

"Indeed. But the agenda I have is neither as elaborate nor as long as theirs. It would have ended the moment I went to Cross's room, given him his name and set him on his path. The agenda of the other party is far more byzantine. If he knows the truth now, nothing will stop him from seeking out his origins. He'll learn the truth one day, but it must be when he is ready for it."

'Okay, this getting old real fast...' "Look, it's obvious you know something more about him than just his true name, Shiatar. So spit it out!" Tiffa snarled, her fists clenching. She hoped she could intimidate the mercenary just enough for her to make a slip. No such luck. The mercenary looked at her as one would regard an ant.

"Sorry, little girl. I can't tell you everything I know about him, or what the others have in mind should he prove to be as vital to their plans as they believe him to be. This game is one where the slightest mistake tips the scales in the favour of the opposition," the Unforgiving Raven smirked, knowing that the younger woman would go ballistic at her display of arrogance. She was not disappointed. Tiffa Ayanami looked like a volcano about to erupt.

Tiffa, for her part, though annoyed at Ko Shiatar's wordplay, didn't need to ask the question that was on the tip of her tongue. The furious glare told the female mercenary that her patience was running thin, and that she had better say something before she **forced** her to talk.

"Okay, little girl. You want something solid?" Ko Shiatar's expression did not change, "Are you prepared to handle what I'm going to tell you? Good. Now listen. This may sound like I'm shitting you, but I'm not. I've told you about the other party; well, they're carrying out their contingency plans now that their primary one - which involved Chairman Zala using the GENESIS cannon to destroy the Earth - had failed. They didn't expect him or Rau Le Creuset to succeed. And I know you know what I'm talking about. Oh, don't try to deny it, girl. I've been with you ever since you got started on your little treasure hunt."

Tiffa glared at Ko, wondering what game the dark-haired female mercenary was playing. She could not understand where this conversation was leading to. Nothing made sense.

"If you know, then just tell me what connection does Cross have with you and the two dead maniacs," Tiffa said, her voice holding an edge, "And by the way you're describing the latter two, it is as if they did not see the whole picture either."

Ko laughed upon hearing that, "They did know something about him. It was just made to look like they knew more than they actually did. That way, curious kittens like yourself would never go farther that what they would already have discovered. But, if you delve deeper, you will find that all this was part of a plan to hide a weapon larger than the GENESIS gun."

"Who are these people you keep referring to? What are they trying to do? And how is it that you know all this?" Tiffa was trying to fight back a massive headache, and failing miserably.

"Those are questions I don't have answers to. At least, those answers don't hold water. Just so you know, those same people are responsible for everything that was done to Cross. You know what I'm talking about," the Unforgiving Raven said.

"The memory loss and the cybernetic implant..."

"Bingo! A prize for the girl," Ko Shiatar replied, "And I know what you're thinking. Don't even think it. Doctor Alyssa Sears is merely one of their agents and, if anything, knows less than I."

Tiffa rubbed her temple, her mind struggling to process all that she had heard. Everything that she had been told, and everything she had discovered, just did not match up. And a weapon larger than GENESIS? The battle-station alone was half the size of a PLANT - there was no way in hell any one faction or government could build something that huge and hide it. No wait, that had been done before. The GENESIS had a Mirage Colloid cloaking system. Regardless, the conversation had raised some interesting points about Cross.

Tiffa had never heard about anything that resembled closely what had been done to him, but she knew that ZAFT would take a keen interest in cybernetics, considering that its first test subject was a success. It wouldn't be long before such enhancements made its way to the Black Market to be used by terrorists and criminals of every stripe and creed. The idea made the headache Tiffa was currently suffering worse.

That is, until she came to a disturbing conclusion.

"Shiatar, is Cross meant to be part of some sort of weapon? Something like the control unit of a mobile weapon?" Tiffa asked. The Unforgiving Raven did not reply, but it confirmed Tiffa's suspicion. "No," the blue-haired ZAFT officer said, "That can't be right. If they wanted him to be that, wiping his memory and depositing him in a hospital would have been a costly blunder."

"Indeed it would be. But, like I said before, I am not privy to their plans, but I can make a rough guess as to why they have done what they did. It's hard for me to explain, so I'll use a parallel instead. A lioness would throw her cubs off the side of a mountain to test them. Whichever cub could return to her side would be raised, and the others left to perish. Cross and many others - myself included - were thrown into the crucible of the Bloody Valentine War to see who would survive. It may sound devious on my part, but I have my reasons for giving him to you," the Unforgiving Raven said.

"That being...?" Tiffa prodded.

"I want them to think that he's useless for whatever it is my backers are planning. At least, for a little while longer."

Tiffa considered the analogy of the lioness throwing her cubs off the mountain to be an interesting one, even as she found it oddly fitting, "You're saying that someone did this to Cross purposely to see if he was capable of performing a certain task later on? And you're here to make sure he can't?"

The ZAFT officer could not help but wonder if Ko had an ulterior motive for coming to the hospital other that the obvious one she had given before.

"A tool needs to be tested. And the only way that can be done is to put it through a crucible. And what better than a war? It is the one proving ground where human will and ability can be tested and tempered. But, there are those who would intentionally damage the tool to the point of uselessness," Ko Shiatar's voice took an icy edge, "Not a smart move, if one thinks who it is they'll be answering to."

Tiffa looked at the dark-haired mercenary thoughtfully, "I wonder, Shiatar. Why did you come here, really? Did you come here to give him his real name and information that would lead him home? Or were you here to take his life?"

"Had I come here before I learnt what I have, then yes, I would have killed him no matter what my employers said. I'm a mercenary, little girl, and like everyone in my profession, profit is a watchword. There's no money to be made if there is no one left to pay you," and Ko Shiatar pulled out a Colt Python out of thin air, its gleaming steel the colour of its owner's clothes. How in the world did she get that past the hospital's security?

"Figures," Tiffa said, her eyes on both the gun and its wielder, "Mercenaries always go where the money is."

"However, since Cross Lionheart is in that room, then there's no need for me to use this," and Shiatar put the gun away, "I have principles, Ayanami Tiffa. I don't take contracts on innocent people, no matter how good the pay."

Tiffa released the breath she didn't realise she had been holding, "But you're a mercenary, Shiatar. The deadly Unforgiving Raven. What makes him any different from all the soldiers and comrades-in-arms that you have killed before? Mercy is not something you believe in."

Ko Shiatar glanced at her watch, before pressing the Emergency Stop button again to release the lock she had put on the elevator, "That is something you will find out for yourself. If you choose to listen to what I have to say, then you will have the answers you're looking for."

Tiffa gave the Unforgiving Raven a look that practically said that she was willing to do so.

"You've proven that you're the best chance Cross has at being something more than what others want him to be. I need you to be by his side, to be his heart and moral compass. If anything, it may well throw whatever plans they have into disarray."

Tiffa raised an eyebrow at the request, "Why me and not you?"

"My profession is that of a killer, Ayanami. You are my mirror-image. You will protect every last living thing in Creation, and be damned to anyone who says or thinks otherwise. Your disobeying your commander's orders to save Cross's life is proof enough of your beliefs."

"That does not answer my question, Shiatar. Why do you need me to be Cross's heart and his moral compass?"

"You can teach someone the difference between right and wrong, and they will **still** do the wrong thing. But, if you show him the kind of person he really is, then maybe..." Ko stopped speaking as the elevator doors opened, revealing the main waiting room of the hospital. Tiffa could see in the Unforgiving Raven's eye that she didn't want to finish her sentence. The latter had not walked three steps before the former turned her around. When she did, she saw why Ko Shiatar's hair was done in such a way that it covered half of her face. Instead of a red eye and pale skin, she saw smooth, silvery steel and a pale, azure light where her eye should be. Tiffa's thought processes came to a screeching halt.

As her hair fell back to cover her face, the Unforgiving Raven let out a soft sigh, "If you promise to do what I've asked of you, then you'll be able to stop them from turning him into what I am now. He has already been marked, but he can still be saved. And that is why I want you to be there for him."

The Unforgiving Raven turned and walked towards the exit, but Tiffa Ayanami stopped her again, "One last question, Shiatar. What makes you think I will do what you ask?"

Ko flashed that knowing smile, "Woman's intuition, Ayanami. And because you would have helped him, regardless. It's not in you to throw someone to the wolves. You are not me," and her voice became softer, heavy with pain, and the smile bitter, "And as you help him, Ayanami Tiffa, I want you to do one thing."

"And that is?"

"Don't fall in love with him. Please, for your own sake, don't."

Tiffa turned red, but her embarrassment faded when the Unforgiving Raven, the somber look still one her face, explained the reasons why. Then, the female mercenary strode out of the hospital, uncaring of the appreciative looks many of the men in the lobby - and no few women - threw her way. Had the Unforgiving Raven waited an instant longer, she would have seen the tears on the other woman's face.

**(O)**

It had been two years. Two years in which many things changed. But, even though so much time had passed, Ayanami Tiffa could not forget the words spoken by the Unforgiving Raven, and the fear and pain that had come with the knowing. And even though the dark-haired female mercenary had warned her not to fall in love with Cross, she had done so anyway. He had friends now, inside and outside the military. But, when the time came, none of them would be able to stand by him.

Tiffa Ayanami remembered believing that Cross had managed to sidestep the destiny that Ko Shiatar had spoken of when he became someone far different from the person the female mercenary had described. Things were not going to happen the way the Unforgiving Raven had said they would. It had been the beginning of many good things.

But, it was not meant to last. The incident that brought it to an end had been an assassination attempt in broad daylight by the anti-Coordinator Ockzam's Razor faction. Though Cross, the Steel Angels, and members of the Constellation squadrons had managed to catch them, they had committed suicide before ZAFT Military Intelligence could interrogate them. It worried Tiffa as her mind replayed the words spoken by a dying Razor agent.

_**"They were right. Even without...his real memories, he's a monster..."**_

No, she was not worried about Cross. He was more than capable of taking care of himself. She was worried about someone else. A slender hand went to her stomach, the circular motions she initiated soothing to her troubled mind. Though the reason for the action was something Tiffa had neither considered or prepared for, it gave her strength nonetheless. Now, the only problem was finding the time to tell Cross.

One was to tell him when they were both off-duty, or wait until he notices the physical changes to her normally-lean body. Since it was only two weeks since her discovery, it would be a while before he notices it. Regardless, it would lead to one of two reactions - fainting, or temporary denial, and then fainting. She imagined what their lives would be like once they retired from military service. Since she knew ahead of time what the gender of her baby would be, the Azure Pegasus was curious to find out which of her daughter's parents she would take after. Either way, she could imagine her child's temperament - and the look on Cross's face as he struggled to bring his rambunctious child in line.

Humbled not in battle where the odds of victory were nonexistent, but by his own daughter, who would proceed to run him ragged. She giggled at the image that took shape in her mind.

"What's so funny, Tiffa?"

Tiffa quickly sat up in bed and saw Cross standing next to it with two cups of steaming coffee in each hand and a curious look on his face.

"Oh, nothing. Just a private joke back from my cadet days. I'll tell you about it sometime," Tiffa smiled, hoping that it would distract Cross from asking more questions. The latter shrugged, handed her a cup of coffee, and sat down next to her. Tiffa took in a deep breath, and took a sip.

"Finally. After two years, you managed to get it right," Tiffa said, "Half strong and double sweet. You certainly know what I like."

"Didn't I just do that not too long ago?" Cross's sly smile was a gauntlet thrown in Tiffa's direction. And Tiffa was more than up for a fight.

"Oh, you did. But you seem to have forgotten one important detail. It took you a lot longer to know what I like when I knew what you liked from the start," Tiffa whispered the last part of the sentence into her lover's ear. She grinned at his reaction. Cross turned red, the sultry quality of her voice bringing back memories of their intimacies. Tiffa took the chance to move so she could sit next to him on the bedside. Cross put his cup down and wrapped one strong arm around her. He had wanted to ask what had spooked Tiffa earlier, but he knew that she would only tell him when she wanted to.

Cross had learnt from experience that things would reveal themselves in the fullness fo time. They had a tendency to come at a time when he was usually unprepared to learn about them, but then again, Fate loved throwing a monkey wrench into the works. He was usually glad for moments of calm like this, but Tiffa had other plans in mind.

"We still have some time, Cross," Tiffa said, a playful grin curving her lips, "40 minutes is more than enough for what I have in mind."

Cross raised one eyebrow upon hearing those words, "The ship is starting to wake up, Tiffa. They will hear us."

In one fluid motion, Tiffa pushed Cross down onto the bed, and sat on top of him. The look in her violet eyes was almost predatory in its intensity, "I'm used to having you next to me when I wake up in the morning. But, since you weren't, I'm feeling a bit...unsatisfied."

"This is the first time I've seen coffee do something other than wake you up," Cross playfully tried to free himself from Tiffa's grip, but all he managed to do was make the bedsheet she wrapped around herself earlier to slip off.

"Have you forgotten, lover? When I want something, I do everything in my power to take it," Tiffa said, kissing Cross passionately. The latter realised that the former was kissing him the exact same way she had kissed him when they first made love. Another sign that whatever it was that was bothering Tiffa, it was bothering her greatly. Cross tried to ask her what it was, but a finger to his lips cut him off.

"This may be the last time we can really spend time together. Whatever comes after this, this moment is all I want," the lovely girl whispered. Seeing the look change from one of predatory hunger to one of need, Cross knew that any further prolonging would be pointless. He wanted to take her there and then, and to reassure her that, no matter what comes, he would always be by her side.

"Not a moment when we're Lt. Ayanami and Lt. Cmdr Lionheart of ZAFT's 11th MS Squadron, but a moment when you and I are Tiffa Ayanami and Cross Lionheart, right?" the Steel Angel subcommander smiled, his amethyst eyes warm, "One day...it will be that way. Only difference will be that you will have Lionheart as your last name instead of Ayanami."

Tiffa smiled, and traced the cross-shaped scar over his left eye and on his chest, "Sometimes I think you can see more out of this eye and feel more with your heart than anyone I know. If I had never met you when I did, I wonder what my life would have been like?"

Cross ran a finger down Tiffa's jaw, "Don't think on 'what ifs', Tiffa. I **am** glad I met you. No doubt, you feel the same way. And, do you know something? I tried to imagine my life without you in it, and do you know what I saw?"

Tiffa shook her head.

"Nothing. I would be an empty shell. There would be no one I could turn to, and no home to call my own," and Cross wiped away the tears that started to spill from Tiffa's violet eyes, which burned with emotion, "You have given me all that, and more. For that, I will always be grateful. But, had you given me all that and left, I would be less than whole. You, Tiffa, are the one crucial piece that makes that gift beyond precious. You are its soul and its heartbeat."

And with that, Cross Lionheart pulled Tiffa Ayanami down to him.

_**To be continued...**_

_**End Chapter Notes :**_

**(1) **Florence Nightingale Syndrome refers to an inappropriate attraction which can arise between two individuals, one of whom is receiving support or positive attention of some kind. In time, natural feelings of gratefulness and appreciation become exaggerated, turning into declarations of love. The receipt of medical attention is a prime opportunity for such interactions to take place. Obviously, the relationship between Florence Nightingale and the soldiers of the Crimean War, who were said to kiss her shadow as it fell across their bed, gives rise to the syndrome's name. Florence Nightingale Syndrome is also used to refer to a constant and uncontrolled desire to protect and alter the lives of others, often without regard to whether one possesses either the right, or indeed the ability to do so. The feeling of providing help reinforces within the individual a feeling of power, and thus provides for the basic need to feel wanted and loved.

**(2)** ESNN - Earth Sphere News Network.

**(3)** Constellation Team - Named after the constellations (Leo, Sagittarius, Aquarius, Cancer, etc.), there were 12 elite rapid-response strike teams that guarded 4 PLANTs. They were formed in the aftermath of the Bloody Valentine War, as ZAFT reorganised what was left of its armies. The Steel Angels formed the Leo Flight-Group.

_**Character Profile 1:**_

_**Tiffa Ayanami, Commander of the 11th Mobile Suit Squadron (Steel Angels); Constellation Team Leo**_

**Callsign:** Azure Pegasus

**Age: **20

**Rank / Affiliation:** Lieutenant / ZAFT

**Eye colour/ hair colour/ Height:** Violet/ Dark blue/ 165 cm

**Type:** Coordinator

**History:** Tiffa Ayanami was born in C.E. 53, back when the PLANTs were under the dominion of Earth, to two Engineers. Her childhood was normal enough, but Tiffa soon learnt of the hardship that the PLANTs had to endure under the rule of the Earth as well as the hostility in which certain hardline elements bore each other. The ever-increasing quotas Earth demanded of her vassal PLANTs soon led to the latter declaring independence, and the reformation of its militia-arm of ZAFT into a military organisation. Tiffa was one its first recruits, and had earned her callsign (Azure Pegasus) due to her love of flying high and hard. It was not long after that that the agricultural PLANT of Junius-7 was destroyed, and over a quarter-billion Coordinators murdered in cold blood.

Herein was the legacy of hate that would scar the Earth Sphere forever after, and pull into place people who would fight to end such a bloody legacy. Even as the Azure Pegasus performed her duty and earned the admiration of her colleagues and superiors in ZAFT, her furious clashes with the more extremist elements in the rank-and-file had seen to it that she would never be promoted beyond the rank of captain.

Tiffa Ayanami is a lively, fiery and independent girl. She loves to ride horses and motorcycles, though socialising and reading come in a close second (and is never seen without her lover, Cross Lionheart, in close proximity). 

_**Author's Note: **_Refer to Chapter 2 of the Gundam SeeD: Lost Memories, by Kouryuo Sabre. The story there is the official version to Tiffa's past. Better than this little pickle I offer, meow.

_**Character Profile 2:**_

_**Ashley Tsyna, Nurse, Southern Cross Hospital, PLANT Janurarius**_

**Age: **20

**Rank / Affiliation:** None / ZAFT

**Eye colour/ hair colour/ Height:** Green/ Gold/ 160 cm

**Type:** Coordinator

**History:** Ashley Tsyna is Tiffa Ayanami's childhood friend. But where the latter showed a love for all things military, Ashley showed a passion for all things medical. She had graduated from medical University at the age of 16, and was assigned to the Southern Cross Hospital, where her skills were medical skills were further refined in its military academy. Ashley Tsyna shares the same views as Tiffa Ayanami, and hates the rhetoric spouted by the extremist elements on the PLANTs and Earth that peace could only be obtained by the utter destruction of their enemies. Despite her professional demeanour, Ashley is a prankster who loves nothing better than to cause the objects of her pranks to run around in circles. She loves reading and socialising.

_**Character Profile 3:**_

_**Ko Shiatar **_- Black hair with white streak covering right side of face, red eyes. In this chapter, she is dressed like T-ELOS of Xenosaga Episode 3 : Also Sprach Zarathustra, albeit with some additions and changes. She speaks with a Russian accent.

**Callsign: **Unforgiving Raven

**Age: **27

**Rank / Affiliation:** Unknown / Mercenary

**Eye colour/ hair colour/ Height:** Crimson/ Black w/ white stripe covering right side of face/ 170 cm

**Type:** Coordinator

**Description:** Ko Shiatar, the Unforgiving Raven - the name is synonymous in ZAFT High Command for a woman who is as ruthless as she is thorough. Her team is one of the best in the business, and her reputation and credibility impeccable. She undertakes any mission for the right sum, and her employers have been known to throw in bonuses to further ensure her loyalty (and to keep her mouth shut should she change employers). The Unforgiving Raven has a penchant for dressing in barley-acceptable clothes in public, which radiate raw seduction and danger in equal measure. Ko Shiatar has an ulterior motive regarding Cross, but it has yet to be seen what it is (much to Tiffa Ayanami's discomfort). The Unforgiving Raven loves guns, and is skilled in the handling of every firearm known to man, and her hobby of reading literature novels dating back to Earth's older days is somewhat of a surprise, even to those who know her well.

_**Spiritblade's Entry - **_I envisioned Ko Shiatar as T-ELOS of Xenosaga Episode 3: Also Sprach Zarathustra, albeit with some additions and changes. She is fluent in many languages, but speaks them with a Russian accent.

_**Spiritblade's Entry 2 - **_Cross Lionheart's Steel Angels are mounted on _Enuma-Elish_, a Nazca-Class destroyer. Ship's commander is Sheila D'Avenant. Its Chief Tactical Officer is Ken Wang. More characters to come.


	5. Chapter 4

_**Gundam SeeD Destiny: Lion of Heaven**_

_**Original idea, story and Concept by Kouryuo Sabre**_

_**Re-written by Spiritblade**_

_**Disclaimer:**_Gundam SeeD and GSD do not belong to me. Kouryuo Sabre and I are borrowing them - among a **LOT** of other things - for the duration of this project. Give Kouryuo your support, ladies and gents...and make sure he – nor I, for that matter – slack.

Of course, on additional note, if he does make changes to the transcripts I give him, that is his right and prerogative. This is, after all, his brainchild and story.

Now, down to the story...

**X X X X X X**

_In the ruins of a city that had once been home to over a million souls, silent as a grave, the sound of battle was joined once again. The sounds of explosions, the crash of swords and the roar of gunfire echoed throughout the city as warrior angels fought against a demigod who had once been their prince._

_They had come, thinking that he could be cut down. They were neither foolish nor overconfident. They knew the enemy they were up against was one of the most dangerous killers in the galaxy; such was his reputation that even the cruel Isiri and the mighty Marduke had given named him as a spirit of death given flesh and form in their respective religions. These brave men and women were the finest soldiers of the Army of God; Templars who had stood their ground against the manifold enemies of humanity with the courage of the zealous._

_But, even that courage did not blind them to the fact that the odds had tilted in the favour of their prey. They had tried to trap the beast, but it had broken free of the cage. The armoured bodies of men and women - human and Gears alike - littered the streets, their blood staining the snow-covered ground crimson. _

_"My arm..." a female Gear called out, "somebody...anybody... please help me..."_

_**The silence that you hear...**_

_Her fellow Gears laid about her, their bodies broken by the might of the Bloody Angel's mighty DRAGOON. She had been named well, indeed. Like the terrible goddess of the pagan era, she had smote all who dared challenge her and endanger her charge. "I guard my Master's death," Morrigan had thundered, echoing the phrase that that ancient Celtic Goddess had spoken to the Irish hero, Cu Chulain, "And none of you have the right nor the power to take his life from him..."_

_They knew how powerful the DRAGOONs were, and how devoted they were to their chosen masters. Morrigan was no exception. Even set against impossible odds, she had refused to abandon her Master. The female Angelic Gear looked up into the sky where the Goddess of War was fighting another DRAGOON, their exchanges lighting up the sky reminiscent of a celestial war. Blazing swords five kilometres long sundered a devastated city, cutting massive craters where they struck, and the exchange of gunfire between them was easily the equal of an exchange between capital ships._

_She could see the Bloody Angel fighting the eldest son of the Divine Wolf of Heaven, and the Ten Planetary Incarnae of the Solar System that supported him. But, it was all for naught. The Bloody Angel was powerful. Death strode as his companion, and she was enraged by the arrogance of the living in their temerity to smite her servant. She gave a strangled gasp of horror as the Ten Planetary Incarnae soon became eight in one stroke. The Bloody Angel tackled the Incarnae of Pluto, choke-slamming her into the building, clearly intending to break her neck. Her friend, the Incarnae of Uranus, rushed in to stab the Bloody Angel in the back with her trident. At that last chilling instant, the Bloody Angel stepped aside, allowing Uranus to impale Pluto. The eyes of the latter widened in disbelief even as the second wailed in horror._

_It was a wail cut short as a sword stroke sent two bloody halves crashing to the cold earth to join the thousands that had died._

_"BLASPHEMY!! Damn you, traitor! Damn you to all the Nine Hells and back again!" the Incarnae of Earth shouted, his voice filled with anger and sorrow, "I will make you pay for this!!"_

_The Incarnae of Earth rushed towards the Bloody Angel, the Thunder Hammer of the former raised to crush the skull of the latter..._

_**Is one that is a premonition of danger.**_

_...and those arms and the hammer it wielded fell to the earth, joining the rent corpse of the Incarnae of Uranus. The Incarna of Earth's eyes widened. He did not see the Bloody Angel move...! When did he...?_

_"Impossible...how..."_

_"I'm sorry, Incarnae. Truly, I am," the Bloody Angel whispered._

_"No..."_

_"Goodbye..."_

_The Incarnae of Earth died a second later, and his body broke upon the concrete, snow-covered ground, staining it a deeper crimson._

_**The promise offered...**_

_A woman's scream split the air, a scream of pain and denial that caused even the Bloody Angel to visibly flinch, his anti-gravity harness allowing him to alight on the roof of what had once been the city's administrative centre. His eyes, the Gear could see, were on the grief-stricken faces on his enemies, and on the woman who held the Incarnae of Earth in her armoured arms. The Incarnae of the Moon. The Bloody Angel raised one armoured hand, power crackling around them._

_"Lunar! Get the hell away! He's going to...!"_

_The Incarnae of Luna turned, her blue eyes blazing with hate, and soared towards the Bloody Angel with a fury that would set Creation ablaze. Her spear shone with all the glory of the celestial bodies above, its killing blade aimed for the heart of her beloved's killer. In that instant, time stops as the spear of the Incarnae pierces through the armoured shoulder of the Bloody Angel. A cry of triumph emerges from the throats of his adversaries._

_It died almost instantly._

_The body of the Incarnae of the Moon dissolves into fine red mist, her ornate armour and protective force shields and wards no protection against the vengeful wrath of this monstrous demon her might could not defeat. The Bloody Angel pulls the Lunar Incarnae's spear out and hurls it at the Incarnae of Venus._

_The Incarnae leaps aside a split second before the spear lands, and casts an angry glare at her enemy. _

_**Is one steeped with the promise of pain that will never die.**_

_"Gyran, we must withdraw! We cannot - __**cannot! **__- defeat him!" the Incarnae of Mercury cries, "More than a hundred of our Order's finest soldiers are dead...!"_

_"No! We will win here or the dream our Lord espouses will be dust! He will ruin it all!" the eldest son of the Divine Wolf fires back, readying his crackling blade, "We will end this threat once and for all!"_

_"Young, foolish Lion," the Bloody Angel speaks softly, "You cannot win. Withdraw, please. Or you and your comrades will die."_

_"Never," the man fired back, "Too many lives have been lost for the sake of defeating you. Even if we are to subject this world to a second purging - the first being wrought by __**your**__ hands, murderer! - then so be it! But know this! By God and all that is Holy, we shall defeat you, Satan!"_

_Satan - the word means 'Adversary', the title of the rebel angel who had once been God's most beloved Daughter (or Son, as the Scriptures described the former Archangel to be), and who stood first before all Her Children. But, the word's original meaning had been 'Prosecutor'. It had been subverted by the religious to give a name and a title to a defiant, arrogant spirit whose refusal to bow down before the edicts of her Creator led to her exile from Heaven. _

_The Bloody Angel raised the Thunderseal, lightning swirling about its long blade like a tornado, "Very well, my brothers and sisters. But do not hold back. If you do, you will never live to see the sun rise over Terra ever again."_

_**To take that hand, or not to, that is the question.**_

_Seven angels, with their blazing weapons and attendant spirits, charge the single demon lord with his sword of lightning. And at that very instant, night became day, and the wrath of an angry God shook the ground. Eight screams were soon deafened by an explosion that left a crater over ten kilometres wide...and a single sword._

_The same one held by the Bloody Angel._

**Chapter 4**

**Angel and Archangel. Phoenix Resurrection**

**Wounds that do not heal**

**ZAFT's 11th MS Squadron - Steel Angels **

Before Heliopolis was destroyed, the biggest concerns I had in my life were the same concerns girls my age had - beauty, fashion, guys and popularity. The excuse that I was a teenager who didn't know any better is one that is overused, but it is the only one that can I can give that explains my immaturity. Yes, I was immature and spoilt. And like those whose eyes see nothing but their own image, I had my own opinions in regards to the Coordinators. Opinions I had voiced aloud when Miriallia had asked me to bring Lacus Clyne her share of food when the latter had been rescued by the Archangel. Two years have passed, but the words I spoke then resound clearly in my mind, and I remembered the look of crushed hope in Kira's eyes.

"I don't want any of you Coordinators acting friendly with me!"

That simple sentence bespoke of my distaste of the entire Coordinator race. I didn't care about the opinions of others back then. I had believed that my dislike of the Coordinators was justified. How could it not be? Coordinators had an unfair advantage over everyone else: their superior intellect, physiology and reflexes made it difficult for a Natural - ANY Natural, no matter how gifted - to win in a straight fight. But, that superiority came at a price - the Coordinators' birth-rate would never be able to match those of their Natural cousins. It was this undeniable fact that cemented my belief that Coordinator race had no right to exist.

But he changed that with his simple honesty that had left me, for those moments that felt like a lifetime, hating him. How can I hate a race of unnatural beings that had murdered my father before my very eyes when one of those beings wanted nothing more than to protect me and see me smile again? I had planned to use Kira as a weapon against his own kind, to be discarded when my thirst for vengeance was sated.

I had never expected my scheme to fall apart so quickly because of the one thing that he offered me. More than his love, he offered me his soul. I, the rebel angel who had sought to ruin him, who viewed him as nothing more than her instrument of vengeance, was being given something that was beyond price. And it was this shard of his soul, lodged in mine that drives me on. Despite my actions and my harsh words, he still rode out to defend me and the world I lived in. And in doing so, it had cost him his life.

Now, I shall fight to defend the world he left behind, so that no one will suffer as we had, nor break as we have been broken. The Phoenix shall soar through the skies one last time before she returns, forevermore, to where her lover waits.

-- Journal Entry of Lieutenant Fllay Allster, written on April 10th, Cosmic Era 73.

**X X X**

Natarle looked at her watch and waited for the timer to hit zero. The moment it did, she would sound her ship's general alarm and proceed to time the response and reaction of her bridge crew. She turned towards her second-in-command, who sat to her right, "Are all stations at Level 2 Alert status?"

"Yes, captain," and her second opened up another sub-screen, "Weapon systems on-line. Auxiliary circuits green. Phase Shift Armour is up."

Natarle nodded. The confirmation report had come in far slower than she had expected, but what could she ask of a crew fresh out of the Academy and who possessed not a ounce of combat experience? It had the dark-haired officer wishing that she had several veteran operators assigned to her ship, but Natarle knew better than to push her luck. Being allowed to command another ship instead of being dishonourably discharged – or worse – showed that the EA was not about to cut loose one of its best fleet commanders, despite her less-than-exemplary record. She looked at the data-screen next to her command chair, studying the three-dimensional wire-schematic of her ship. At least, she conceded, the EA Chief of Staff had the sense to give her a good one – even if walking its corridors brought back bittersweet memories of a time long gone.

Natarle Badgiruel, Earth Alliance Commander and veteran of the Bloody Valentine War, commanded the third Archangel-class battleship to be built after losing the one she was given during the War – the _Shield of Destiny._ Unlike the _Dominion_ and the _Archangel_, the_Shield of Destiny_ boasted a far more efficient power distribution system as well as a more advanced OS than the one used by its predecessors. Now, all that it needed was an experienced crew.

That was the reason for this training exercise. To better prepare them for the battlefield, Natarle had avoided mentioning to her First Officer just who it was they were up against. All she said was that it was the ship against a squadron of Mobile Suits and Mobile Armour. That had been a lie. The _Shield of Destiny_ would be facing only **ONE** Mobile Suit and its pilot – and not just any pilot. They would be facing the Fiery Angel, Fllay 'Angel' Allster, and her Avenger Phoenix. Facing a squadron of Mobile Suits and Armour may well have been the easier choice to train her crew, but Natarle was not one to play the game by the book. The battlefield had no referees, nor did it follow the rules stated in said book. Natarle glanced at her First Officer, who was studying her screen with quiet intensity. The latter was clearly expecting an ambush, and had called in an additional two squadrons of Strike Daggers from the _Shield of Destiny_'s affiliated support squadron, the 147th Flotilla, to further strengthen its escort and point-defence perimeter. It was a wise move on the First Officer's part, but she doubted that the large squadron of MS would deter Fllay from carrying out her 'objective' – namely, 'destroying' the _Shield of Destiny_.

The digital timer on Natarle's watch hit zero. Almost immediately, the crew member manning the Tactical station shouted out, "Heat designation detected at coordinates 0-315-320, bearing 1400. Range 20,000 kilometres and closing. Wait, this is...it's the Avenger Phoenix!"

The silence that fell on the bridge of the _Shield of Destiny_ was deafening, broken only by the irritated voice of Natarle's First Officer asking why she was not informed why the Avenger Phoenix would be taking part in the training exercise. Natarle calmed her second-in-command by explaining that the best way to get the most out of the training exercise was to introduce an element of unpredictability in order to prepare the crew for the real thing.

"And besides, Captain Tauros," Natarle met the other woman's blue eyes, "I have fought against four Gundams during the War. Believe me when I say that there is no better way to hone our skills than by facing one of them."

The calm in Natarle's voice eased the tension that had been mounting in the bridge and silenced any further arguments on First Officer Tauros's part. They had time to discuss this later. The blonde-haired First Officer turned to face her crew, "All right. You heard the captain. We're up against the Avenger Phoenix. Its pilot is without question one of the best to wear the uniform. I do not want mistakes, am I clear? Helmsman, turn the ship to face the Phoenix and increase power output to engines by 30 percent. Weapons Officer, lock onto the Avenger Phoenix and fire port Sledgehammer missiles when she comes within range. Fire starboard Sledgehammers only on my command."

"Aye, aye, ma'am," Natarle's helmsman replied, turning the ship about to face the swiftly approaching enemy.

"All weapons ready," the Weapons Officer replied, "Targeting array has locked onto the Avenger Phoenix. It will be within range in 15 seconds."

Captain Kimsey studied her console, her mind working swiftly as she formulated a plan to defeat the Avenger Phoenix and its pilot. It would not be easy. She did not know what weapons were mounted on the Avenger Phoenix nor was she going to take the chance of finding out the hard way. For all she knew, the Avenger Phoenix could be armed with a long-range cannon meant to take down capital ships or a sniper rifle to pick off the _Shield of Destiny_'s MS escort. Her hands flew over the keyboard, as she prepared a defensive algorithm for the ship's targeting array. Kimsey turned to her Weapons Officer, "Fire Lohengrin cannons and Gottfried on these coordinates – random burst pattern. CIWS Igellstellung point-defence cannons to fire sporadic bursts within the designated area. Keep 1 out of four guns on tracking. Don't let the Avenger Phoenix get a lock-on without us giving it a slap for its daring to do so!"

"Avenger Phoenix in gun range!" the Tactical Officer called out, "Strike Dagger squadron commanders requesting orders!"

"Tell them to hold! Weapons...!" Kimsey shouted.

"Opening fire now!" the Weapons Officer shouted as the main guns of the _Shield of Destiny_ opened up on the swiftly approaching Avenger Phoenix.

Natarle looked at her command console as her bridge erupted into a flurry of activity. She knew what her First Officer was planning the moment she saw the latter input the defence algorithm. It had been modified from its original program to one that was effective against high-speed and invisible enemies. Natarle had to admit that her First Officer's plan was a good one. The Avenger Phoenix would have problems locking onto the _Shield of Destiny_ without getting hit itself. Command sub-routines had been altered so that the moment the Avenger Phoenix had taken a stunning blow the other point defence systems would immediately lock on and rain fire down on it. But, Natarle knew that Angel would not fall for it. Instead, the pilot of the Avenger Phoenix would make it look like she had fallen for First Officer Kimsey's trap, only to spring one of her own. That was one of the two reasons why Natarle had chosen not to take part in the training exercise.

The second was that she knew how to deal with a Gundam but was unsure as to how the crew would react when faced with one. Finding that out the hard way was not something she would allow before they were ready. And how would the crew react when they meet the Avenger Phoenix's pilot? She looked up to see the first wave of Sledgehammer missiles streak towards the swiftly approaching Mobile Suit. Several seconds later, the vista was illuminated by the sight of over a dozen missiles detonating and a soaring star that showed no signs of slowing. Natarle opened a secondary screen on her data console, enhancing the image. Though blurry and indistinct, Natarle could make out the avian features of the Avenger Phoenix.

"Avenger Phoenix is at 8,000 kilometres and closing! It has locked onto us!" the Tactical Officer shouted.

"Lohengrins and Igellstellung guns – lock onto target and open fire!" Captain Tauros shouted, "Order the Strike Dagger escort to break formation and engage according to my instructions!"

First Officer Kimsey had timed her orders so as to get the Avenger Phoenix to fly in the direction she wanted it to. But, as Natarle had predicted, the Gundam allowed that illusion to continue before showing the trap's maker that _**it**_ was the one in control when it did a care-free barrel roll to dodge the attacks. Natarle had seen some pictures of what the Avenger Phoenix Gundam had looked like beforehand, but nothing had prepared her for seeing it in action. The only part of the Avenger Phoenix that had been salvaged from the final days of the Bloody Valentine War had been the wings of Freedom. The Avenger Phoenix had its predecessor's dual-wing spread and the same weapons. But where the wings of Freedom left a blue and silver path, the Avenger Phoenix left one that was crimson and gold. The beam cannons that Freedom had used to devastating effect during the War had been built into the Avenger Phoenix as well. A pair of those cannons had been upgraded with a targeting scope, an indication that the Avenger Phoenix was capable of long-range precision attacks.

As the Gundam came closer, Natarle saw for the first time just how beautiful the Avenger Phoenix was, and could not help but mentally compliment its creators. The colour scheme of the MS was predominantly white and crimson, with blue segments around its head that gave the Avenger Phoenix a fierce, defiant aura. The machine's form and armour had been so well-crafted that everything about it reminded Natarle of the legendary firebird. It made her thankful that the _Shield of Destiny_ and her MS escorts were not using live ammunition in the exercise. She could not bear to see it destroyed. The suit had, within its armoured breast, memories that its pilot and the commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ had no wish to see lost to them.

Natarle let out a slow, measured breath as she studied her First Officer. If this training exercise was any indication as to how well Captain Tauros would perform during an actual battle, it was that the _Shield of Destiny_'s First Officer had a long way to go. Already, she had made one major mistake. The first was that Kimsey had treated the enemy with contempt. Thinking that the enemy would dance to the music you play was wishful thinking on the part of the thinker. The second was that the First Officer did not think about what to do next after she had carried out the first part of her plan. Wasting ammunition while hammering about another was a luxury no commander could afford when the battle was finally joined. The Avenger Phoenix shot past the bridge, the sonic boom of its thrusters audible even in the air-tight and shock-proof interiors of the ship. The Strike Dagger escorts chased after it, their vernier thrusters at full burn.

Commander Natarle looked at her First Officer, "Captain Tauros. Do **NOT** treat any threat to this ship as something which can be solved by the proper application of the strategies you learnt in the Academy's textbooks. The moment the first shots are exchanged, those books are only good for toilet paper," and turned back to look at the timer on her watch, "Do not assume that the enemy will take his or her own sweet time to test your reactions before moving in for the kill. Sometimes the first strike is all they need to send us to our graves."

"Understood, Commander," Kimsey replied, "Tactical, standby to fire the second barrage on my command..."

Kimsey studied her console once more, and the moment she saw that the Gundam was flying in the direction of the _Shield of Destiny_'s starboard side, she gave the order for the missiles to be fired. They streaked towards the Avenger Phoenix, but none of them even came close to scratching its paintwork. Not that she expected it to, anyway.

"Helmsman, turn ship starboard and down at 45 degrees. Weapons, I want Hawk-Eye Missiles with a set timer of 50 seconds deployed behind and under the ship."

The ship swung about, the Igellstellung CIWS cannons tracking the Avenger Phoenix, preventing it from locking onto the _Shield of Destiny_. The 25 Strike Daggers that were hot on its tail, firing their guns, made it all the more difficult for its pilot to stand still without getting hit. Kimsey nodded. The trap was set. Now, all she had to do was fire the ship's guns in a way that left the Avenger Phoenix's pilot with no choice but to run the gauntlet. Natarle raised an eyebrow, impressed by how quickly Kimsey had set up the trap in the midst of a fierce, mock battle. The dark-haired commander leaned forward, her amethyst eyes studying the read-outs on her console.

It was time to see just how effective her First Officer's plan was. She looked at the symbol representing the Avenger Phoenix, who was darting about the pursuing Strike Daggers, causing more than one pilot to hit their team-mates as the agile suit played hell with their targeting arrays.

"Enough playing around, Angel. It does this ship no good if you don't show them how serious you really are..."

**(O)**

_'So, that's the new design for the Archangel-class battleships,' _Fllay thought as she banked the Avenger Phoenix sharply to the right to avoid the barrage of gunfire from the Strike Daggers hot on her heels, before igniting her suit's thrusters at full burn to evade the _Shield of Destiny_'s point defences. The ship before her had the same colour scheme and design of the previous two Archangel-class ships but with one chief difference – the _Shield of Destiny_ outstripped the _Archangel_ and the _Dominion_ in terms of weight and size. The primary addition of an atmospheric flight unit had necessitated such changes to the original blueprints of the Archangel-class's design blueprints. Its inclusion had also solved the problem of another design flaw inherent to the original Archangel-class: the ship could not traverse the mountain ranges when it was on Earth. Now, it could.

But, that was not the only change. The _Shield of Destiny_ was sleeker than its bulkier counterparts. Additional thrusters were strategically positioned throughout the length of the ship, allowing it to perform manoeuvres at twice the speed the original _Archangel_ could. The structural design on the lower segment of the ship had also been improved, allowing the v-wing to transform to an x-wing formation, improving the ship's manoeuvrability further. Why it wasn't being used in this training exercise, Fllay could only wonder.

"Oh no, you don't..." Fllay whispered as she sent the Avenger Phoenix in a corkscrew that would play hell with any targeting array, "Now, let's see what you have up your sleeve..."

She knew that the_Shield of Destiny_ was setting up a trap. But just what kind remained to be found out. Fllay took the Avenger Phoenix along the designated opening her opponent had set for her, dodging the ship's formidable weapons. She raised an eyebrow. Not bad...there wasn't an opening in the ship's defensive network that would allow anyone to get in a snap shot. Fllay put the Phoenix thrusters on full burn, putting some distance between her and the _Shield of Destiny._ Raine had not been joking. The _Shield of Destiny_ was a veritable flying fortress – its point-defence networks had been constructed in a way that each networked tier covered the other. The ship, Raine had said, could hold off an entire squadron of capital ships even without the benefit of an MS or MA escort.

Her admiration was cut short when she realized the nature of the trap that was waiting for her. She glanced to her sensor screen. The Strike Dagger contingent had broken off their pursuit. She smirked – time to show off one of the Avenger Phoenix's abilities. The Phoenix's pounding wings unleashed a wall of flame that caused the rockets to detonate, the force of the explosions giving the suit the propulsion it needed to put breathing space between her and the _Shield of Destiny._ She banked the Phoenix once more, bringing it back in the direction of the ship before hitting her suit's afterburners.

The _Shield of Destiny_ unleashed a fearsome barrage, but the Mobile Suit it was targeting evaded and slipped past every shot. It did not stop until it was hovering before the bridge of the ship, where its crew could see it up close. Not only did come to a full-stop from break-neck speeds, the Avenger Phoenix had transformed from bird-mode to its humanoid form.

"Let the games begin," Fllay whispered as the wings of the Avenger Phoenix snapped up, completing its transformation.

**(O)**

"Impressive," Natarle said, as she looked upon the steel angel that hovered before her bridge, "MS technology has improved since the end of the Bloody Valentine War."

The transformation of the Avenger Phoenix from its avian mode to its humanoid form had left the bridge crew in stunned silence. The body of the Avenger Phoenix was slimmer than even a Strike Dagger's, giving it a feminine feel. Its arms, which had originally been folded around its torso like a secondary breastplate during its avian mode, were full extended and grasping its gun and blast shield. Its legs, likewise, were full extended, its feet ending in talons. Its head, designed to resemble that of an eagle, had snapped backwards and upwards, forming a helmet around the Mobile Suit's head. The cross-shaped blast shield that the Avenger Phoenix held came from its tail section when the MS was in its avian mode, and doubled as a stabilizer when the MS operated under atmospheric conditions. The rear-mounted dual beam cannons that she had seen earlier were now being held in the Avenger Phoenix's right hand. It was the smaller version of the Buster's beam-cannon and utilized the same snap-join construction that allowed the latter to combine its two weapons into one long-range sniper rifle.

It was then that Natarle noticed that something was different about the Avenger Phoenix's right arm. Bulkier than its left, it sported a cross-shaped opening at its wrist. Whatever it was for, she would find out sooner or later. Her First Officer's voice broke her out of her thoughts.

"Tactical, use the Valiant and the Gottfried cannons in a pincer move. I want the Phoenix to come straight at us. Drive her into the Strike Dagger squadrons. If we don't give its pilot any room to breathe, she'll be bound to make mistakes. Coordinate with the Strike Dagger squadrons. Tell them to disregard the previous orders. Have them get ready to be the anvil. Helmsman, I want you to execute two full barrel rolls on my command!"

"Yes, captain!"

Natarle crossed her hands before her, _'Take it easy, Kimsey. A tense officer makes for a tense crew – and mistakes will be more frequent in such a situation.'_

The dark-haired officer wanted to give voice to her thoughts, but decided not to. Her First Officer's military records indicated that she had fought in several battles before the final days of the Bloody Valentine War. But, despite so, it was clear that Captain Kimsey Tauros was not taking the Avenger Phoenix or its pilot seriously. Any hope of winning the fight died the minute Natarle saw the Strike Daggers heading straight for the Phoenix while evading the _Shield of Destiny_'s main guns. Even though badly outnumbered and running out of breathing space, trying to defeat a Gundam in the fashion that her First Officer was attempting was an ill-advised move. She could correct Kimsey, but chose not to.

Let her make the mistake, she thought. Let her learn from this defeat. Better here than on the battlefield. She glanced at the sensor screen the moment her Tactical Officer shouted in disbelief than almost 15 of the 25 Strike Daggers have been 'killed'. It was fortunate that the Avenger Phoenix's guns were set at a power setting capable of giving a Strike Dagger's pilot a rough ride upon impact. Had it been on full power, the rifle would have taken out the Strike Dagger – shield and all. The gun had, after all, been designed to sink capital ships.

"I cannot believe this…" Kimsey said, "15 killed in less than three minutes. Just who is this guy?"

Natarle, for her part, was just as surprised as her First Officer. She, however, kept the emotion from appearing on her face. It appeared that Fllay had stopped playing around. She glanced down at her watch. This mock fight was going to end soon. Kimsey immediately ordered the Strike Daggers to disperse and regroup at certain locations that would allow them to perform a strafing attack so as to force the Avenger Phoenix into the fire arcs of its main guns.

"Avenger Phoenix 200 meters from concentrated fire arcs," the Tactical Officer shouted.

"Helmsman, execute the rolls now!" Kimsey shouted. The _Shield of Destiny_immediately began to turn.

"Tactical, have the Strike Daggers begin the attack! Weapons, fire all weapons – random dispersion!" Kimsey shouted. This would apply pressure on the Gundam's pilot long enough for either one of the Strike Daggers to land a hit, or for the _Shield of Destiny_ to do so.

The move was surprisingly well-executed, and Natarle realized that Kimsey may very well carry the day. But, when the Avenger Phoenix imitated the _Shield of Destiny_'s barrel rolls, drawing most of the missiles fired by the ship onto it and screaming straight into what was left of the _Shield of Destiny_'s MS escort squadrons, Natarle almost shot up from her command chair. Kimsey horrified gasp made her realize just how badly her plan had backfired. Out of that conflagration, only three Mobile Suits emerged – and those were swiftly removed from the playing table by three sharp stabs of light.

But, not all the missiles had been destroyed. Several had locked onto the Avenger Phoenix, whose pilot had no intention of standing still and letting her suit's anti-missile system take them out. She charged straight at the _Shield of Destiny_, whose point-defense systems had locked onto her and unleashing an endless stream of gunfire. The Gottfried and Lohengrin cannons were but mere seconds away from achieving a full lock-on on the Phoenix. Then, without stopping, the Phoenix whirled about to face the swiftly approaching missiles at the same moment the ship's guns locked onto her.

"Got her…!" Kimsey shouted as the entire bridge was bathed in blinding white light. When it died away, both Natarle and Tauros saw what they had actually 'hit' – the Avenger Phoenix's blast shield. Before Tauros could speak and before the _Shield of Destiny_'s OS could inform its operators of the proximity of their adversary, it was already too late. The Avenger Phoenix materialized before them, its right arm raised. It was no longer holding its rifle, Natarle saw, and that there was a deep, crimson glow emanating from where she had seen the cross-shaped opening earlier on.

"So that was what it was for," Natarle said, finally understanding, "An energy weapon."

"Captain, is that what I think it is?" her First Officer asked, her voice heavy with disbelief.

Natarle smiled slyly, "So, the people at R&D have managed to solve that problem, eh? Now that it draws its power from the suit's primary reactor, there is no need for it to be recharged and you can control its power output. If what I've heard is true, a Plasma Sword can cut through this ship's Phase-Shift Armor with no problem at all."

"If that's true, then why did the pilot only use it now? It could have just ended the exercise within minutes of it getting within range," the Tactical Officer said.

"Don't matter," the Weapons Officer replied, "We threw practically everything this ship had, Truman, and we couldn't beat it."

The Tactical Officer, Truman Walsh, merely sighed, "Ma'am? Do we have permission to stand down from the exercise?"

Natarle nodded, before pushing her console aside and standing on the bridge view-port so as to be able to see every member of her bridge crew, "I take it that all of you will learn from today's exercise. In a real fight, most of the enemies that will attack this ship will most likely try to sink it in one blow. The moment that happens, none of us will be alive long enough to ask what we did wrong."

She glanced at the watch. 12 minutes and 18 seconds. Her crew had lasted longer than she had expected.

"All of you did pretty well in your first encounter against a Gundam – far better than I expected – but it is still a loss. First Officer Kimsey, I want practice drills scheduled tomorrow for both the crew and the pilots of the Strike Daggers. And no complaints," Natarle's eyes sharpened, "If this had been a real battle, we'd all be dead. I want everyone to know the ins and outs of their jobs so well that they can do it with their eyes closed. That way, the chances of you getting to celebrate your next birthday are higher than it is now."

"Uh…Captain, isn't that a bit excessive?"

"We cannot always rely on Mobile Suit or Armor squadrons to support us during a fight, First Officer Kimsey. There will come a time when the only thing standing between what we are fighting for and our enemy will be this ship and this crew. It is a heavy responsibility that can break the back of its bearer, but there are times when the choice to refuse is taken out of our hands. Besides, what good is a shield if it is afraid of the battles it was created to face? You all have a hard job ahead of you, but I have faith that you can see us through."

"Captain," the communications officer said, "I'm getting a hail from the pilot of the Avenger Phoenix. She is asking for permission to dock as her host ship is an hour away."

"Give her permission to. And get our Strike Daggers back into the ship. I think they've had had enough for one day. Oh, and Katherine," Natarle faced her Communications Officer once more, "have the pilot of the Avenger Phoenix dock in Bay 3. I would like to meet her."

"Yes, ma'am," the brown-haired girl said. Before she could leave the bridge for the hangar bay, her First Officer asked if she could meet the pilot of the Avenger Phoenix as well. Seeing no reason to refuse her, Natarle nodded her assent. As the two commanding officers of the_Shield of Destiny_ floated down the hall, the golden-haired First Officer saw the chance to ask her superior a question that had been on her mind throughout the war game, "Captain, permission to ask you a question?"

Natarle looked over her shoulder, "You know you don't have to be so formal with me, Kim. You can address me by name when we're off-duty."

"Sorry," the golden-haired officer replied, "I'm not used to addressing my superiors in so familiar a fashion."

Natarle couldn't blame her. They were both in the military. For a subordinate to address his or her superior in so familiar a fashion was something that went against the grain.

"I may be your captain, Kim, and I may run a tight ship at time but that does not make me any less human. When people start seeing your rank and not your name, it creates a rift that cannot be bridged easily. I do not want that rift between my crew and me," Natarle said, "But, that aside, you had a question…?"

"Yes, I did. I was wondering why you wanted me to take command during that training exercise. Was there a reason why you wanted to watch from the sidelines?" Kimsey's blue eyes were curious. Natarle smiled at the near-childish curiosity in them.

"I think you know the answer to that question, but something tells me that you're interested in my other motive," Natarle said, to which her First Officer nodded, "Your record doesn't tell me what I want to know. Seeing how you comported yourself during the training exercise gave me a better understanding of the person who is my First Officer."

"You sound like you don't trust me, Natarle," Kimsey looked away even as she spoke.

"Trust is not the issue here. I trusted the soldier, but I didn't know anything about the person. You can send someone to boot camp and they can turn him into the perfect soldier – but they will never erase the person he was beneath. That's the Kimsey I wanted to know, not the officer who was assigned to serve under me," Natarle patted the other woman's shoulder, a quiet indication that she trusted her. Kimsey was satisfied with her captain's reason and gesture, and indicated that after they met up with the Avenger Phoenix's pilot, that they convened in the quarters of the second for breakfast – and a drink when they reached their destination at the neutral PLANT of Neo-Stratos.

They made their way to the hangar to see the Avenger Phoenix dock and placed in one of the spare cradles. Once hydraulic clamps secured the Mobile Suit, the pilot of the Avenger Phoenix emerged from the cockpit and floated to the ground, the zero-g negating the bone-breaking force that came from dropping from such a height. Natarle smiled. It had been a long time since she and Fllay spoke. The last time was when Fllay told her that she was going back to Earth to join the EA Army. The first question she asked the red-haired girl then had been the most obvious one: Why? Natarle could remember what that sad, pained girl had said in reply as they stood on the observation deck of the _Archangel_ as it headed back to Earth after the ceasefire came into effect.

It was the day that two women made the choice that would set them on the path they now strode.

**(O)**

_**Archangel observation deck**_

_**Cosmic Era 71, seven days after the end of the First Bloody Valentine War**_

Two women – on dark-haired, the other crimson-haired – stood on the observation deck of the battle-scarred _Archangel_. Everyone abroad the ship knew those two women by name. The first, clad in a tattered and bloodstained Earth Forces uniform, was the former First Officer of the Archangel, Natarle Badgiruel. The other, crimson-haired, was the daughter of the late Undersecretary of the Earth Alliance, Fllay Allster.

Both stood in contemplative silence, until the younger of the two finally spoke, "I have thought it through, Lieutenant Badgiruel. I am not going to change my mind. So many lives were lost in this nightmare, and those who brought it about are still alive and capable of bringing about another. I won't stand by and watch it happen. Not after all he had given up…"

Natarle saw the clenched, trembling fist, the face of a girl who wanted so very much to cry, but who had no tears left to shed. The burden Fllay had taken on herself would break her, if she did not have someone to lean on. The dark-haired ex-commander of the _Dominion_ closed her eyes. Fllay was right. As things were, the chances of another Bloody Valentine War erupting was high. There were many officials in the Earth Alliance administration and its military arm who ascribed to the principles espoused by the Blue Cosmos who, even now, wanted nothing more than to wipe the Coordinators off the face of Creation. The PLANTs had the same problem, and Natarle could only hope that the new leadership that had taken power was capable of dealing with them before it was too late.

"If you think I'm going to let you do this alone, Fllay, you're wrong. Like you said in the hangar, we owe Kira more than just our lives. We owe him this tomorrow that he gave us. I will continue wearing this uniform," Natarle looked down at the torn and bloodied jacket that was draped over her shoulders, "so that I can make a difference where it will matter."

It was then that both women knew what they had to do in the coming days. However, to get to that promised moment, they would first have to go their separate ways in order to prepare themselves to fulfill a promise to the one person they would never see again. The first part of the journey was done. Now, beholding the blue and white orb of Earth, the second part would begin.

**(O)**

_**Back to the present**_

Though it wasn't a requirement for a Captain of a ship and his First Officer to meet new personnel assigned to their ships, Natarle had made it a point to do so. Her First Officer had supported her decision. To earn the trust and respect of new crew members from the get-go would go a long way; they knew their place in the hierarchy, and what would happen if they stepped out of line. Lessons learnt during in the crucible of war were hard to erase, regardless of whether the student was a soldier or a civilian. They could utterly change the mindset of a person. Natarle could only hope that Fllay had not changed as much as she feared.

The dark-haired commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ could only guess at how hard the first few months of Fllay's life had been when she joined the EA's Mobile Suit Operator Program (1). She had spoken to her father's friends, some of whom were high-ranking officers in the EA military, and they had helped her enlist. It was only some time later that she began hearing of Fllay's progress, taking it as a sign that the red-haired girl had finally managed to overcome the emotional anguish to accomplish what she had set out to do. This was their first time they were seeing each other face-to-face ever since the end of the Bloody Valentine War.

Fllay 'Angel' Allster, pilot of the Avenger Phoenix Gundam, removed her helmet as she strode towards the two officers, allowing a cascade of soft, crimson hair to fall to her waist, drawing almost immediately the attention of the nearby technicians. Natarle couldn't blame them. Fllay had been a pretty girl, but the promise of what she would become was starting to show. She was taller now, and her body had the same sleek and powerful air of her the steel angel towering behind her. Upon closer inspection, Natarle saw that Fllay still kept her hair in the same style when they had first met, and that the latter also wore make-up. Even though it was but lightly applied, Natarle could not shake the image that she was standing before a successful model instead of an ace pilot who had 'killed' 25 Strike Daggers and sunk the _Shield of Destiny_ in an intense 18 minute engagement.

"Greetings, Captain Badgiruel. It's an honour and a pleasure to be assigned with you on this mission," Fllay saluted/

"The pleasure is all mine, Lieutenant Allster," Natarle returned the salute, a smile curving her lips, "This is my First Officer, Captain Kimsey Tauros. Welcome aboard the _Shield of Destiny_."

"It's not every day that a ship is assigned an ace pilot, Lieutenant. Welcome aboard," the enthusiasm in Kimsey's voice was obvious to Natarle and Fllay. As handshakes were exchanged, a familiar robotic bird known to Natarle and Fllay flew out of the Avenger Phoenix's open cockpit, proceeding to land on Fllay's shoulder. Natarle stared at it, trying to remember the name of the tiny robotic bird.

"Tori..." the small bird replied, as it rubbed against Fllay's cheek affectionately. Fllay petted the small robotic bird's head in return, before the latter flew over to Natarle and did the same. Natarle chuckled, her eyes wistful, "I see you've kept this little one with you all this time."

Fllay nodded, "One of the two things left from those days."

The tone indicated that this was a topic meant only for private discussion. Kimsey looked at her superior and the red-haired pilot, wondering why the two of them were so formal with one another, "Natarle, do you know Lieutenant Allster?"

"I do. I knew her long before she even became a Mobile Suit pilot," Natarle replied.

"When was that?"

"I met her for the first time when the _Archangel_ flew from the wreckage of the neutral colony of Heliopolis."

Kimsey raised her eyebrows, impressed. Who would have thought that the commander of the ship had known an ace pilot long before she became one? As Natarle led Fllay to the Pilot's Locker Room, Kimsey was reminded of a rumour surrounding the lovely pilot of the Avenger Phoenix. It was one she wanted to know the truth of.

"It has been a long time, hasn't it, Angel?" Natarle said, choosing that moment to break the ice between them.

"Yes, it has," Fllay replied, inwardly glad that Natarle had chosen to address her by her new name, "I tried getting in touch with you during my training but never had the time. The instructors there were...demanding, to say the least. But, I guess you were just as busy. When I heard you had been selected over a dozen promising officers to be the captain of the third _Archangel_-class battleship, I nearly fell off my chair. But, I suppose all the effort we put in had paid off, hasn't it?"

Natarle smiled, "It wasn't easy, believe me."

"Tell me about it. Oh, and I've noticed you've grown your hair long," Fllay said, "You look better than when you kept it short."

"Thanks," Natarle grinned, "Here's the locker room. I've prepared a change of clothes for you. Take your time."

"Thanks," Fllay grinned, and entered the room, the crimson light on the electro-pneumatic pressure door indicating that Fllay had locked it. As Natarle and Kimsey waited, the latter decided to ask the question that had been on her mind, "Natarle, I heard a rumour about the Lieutenant from some of my colleagues in the MSOP Academy had mentioned. As you know her well, can you tell me if it's true?"

"That depends on the rumour. I've heard a good number of them and there are some that I won't even acknowledge," Natarle replied, her amethyst eyes narrowed to show that Kimsey had better watch what she said. Knowing that she was treading on thin ice, the First Officer chose her words carefully before she spoke, "The rumour I'm asking about is the one where she was in love with a ZAFT Mobile Suit pilot, and that she defected to ZAFT after our Alaskan HQ was destroyed during the Bloody Valentine War. The only reason she came back to our side was because he had betrayed her. Is this true?"

Natarle remained silent for several minutes. The commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ knew the whole story behind Fllay's stay with Rau le Creuset, a man who had brought the madness of the Bloody Valentine War to its bloodiest height with a single, well-planned stroke. Give the Earth Alliance the technology to unleash their nuclear arsenal once more and have ZAFT unleash the Genesis Gun, and watch as both factions wipe each other off the face of Creation. And Fllay had given Murata Azrael, one of the Blue Cosmos's highest-ranking officials, the very thing that had allowed the Blue Cosmos leader to plunge the war into a scale of madness unseen ever since the end of the War of Wrath a thousand years ago. Natarle had, for that very reason, remained silent on the identity of the commander and the pilot they both loved. She looked at Kimsey, realizing that the best way to throw her subordinate off was with a half-truth.

"Lieutenant Allster did not defect to ZAFT during the war, Kimsey. She was taken prisoner when the enemy found her near to the Tactical Control Room in Joshua," Natarle fought back the revulsion of the betrayal that had taken place that day, "They thought she was of some importance to them – and that was why they took her prisoner. Her loyalty was proven when she came back to our side with the data on the N-Jammer Cancellers. As to her being in love with a ZAFT MS pilot, it is not my place to say."

"Even so, is it true then that she was in love with a Coordinator?"

Natarle knew that terminating the conversation there and then would have Kimsey come to the wrong – or maybe, in this case, the right – conclusions. If she told her, God only knew what could happen. Even now, two years after the War, the idea of an EA Officer and a ZAFT soldier being in love was one step from a charge of high treason. Natarle allowed frost to enter her voice as she told Kimsey that she was asking the wrong person for the answer to that question – and that only the red-haired lieutenant within the Locker Room had the right as to tell the truth of it. Asking anyone else for such answers to such private questions was a bad idea, Natarle added with a finality that indicated that the conversation between them was over.

Knowing that she had overstepped her bounds by asking that question, Kimsey volunteered to go to the Mess Hall and have the ship's cook ready their meals for them. After Kimsey left, the pressure door hissed open and Fllay emerged, Tori perched on her shoulder.

"I heard the question she asked you. It seems that not only my reputation – but the rumours associated with my name – precedes me."

"Don't worry, Angel. Kimsey is a trustworthy person. She knows better than to shoot her mouth off. And she has reason to not like ZAFT – her record states that she lost her siblings during the final days of the Bloody Valentine War. A ZAFT MS unit had attacked the city they were in before the cease-fire came into effect."

"She isn't the first one asking such questions, and I seriously doubt that she will be the last," Fllay said. Natarle put a hand to her temple, unable to refute Fllay's words. Seeing as how the conversation had taken a turn for the worse, the dark-haired officer decided to change the topic.

"So, fill me in, Fiery Angel," Natarle winked playfully at Fllay, surprising the latter by how much the former had changed, "I've heard some interesting stories from my colleagues about you. When the MSOP Academy Commander presented you with the Avenger Phoenix on your graduation day, I can imagine that a lot of the male officers and cadets there have been trying to ask you out."

Fllay's face had a sense of perverse pride on it, "I don't deny that I got a lot of love letters and invitations from a good number of the guys at the base I was stationed after Graduation. Good grief, even the crew that transported me and the Phoenix to the base hit on me. I turned them down – all of them – as most of them saw me as a 'quickie' or a chance to boost their social standing. Typical of an environment where any form of female interaction is severely limited – but that's changing, from what I heard. It makes me wonder if HQ would consider some sort of screening process to keep those who think with their dicks out of the service and sterilized before they became a security risk."

Natarle couldn't help but laugh at that suggestion.

"That line of thought has been on the mind of every woman who has ever enlisted in the armed forces through the centuries. This ship is no exception. My crew may not be aware of it, but I have learnt to keep my ears open – something I've learnt how to do from my time with Murrue."

"I guess you can say we both learnt things during our time on the _Archangel_ that we wouldn't have learnt on our own," Fllay replied, her expression solemn.

"And was that where one of the reasons why you chose to be Angel instead of Fllay came from?" Natarle asked. Fllay remained silent as the two floated down the corridors, aided by motorised hand-rails, towards the Mess Hall. The red-haired girl knew that her older, dark-haired counterpart would have asked the question sooner or later. The problem was how to answer it. She could not give Natarle the answer she gave her Chief Technician, Raine Mikamura. And a look into the other woman's amethyst eyes told her that the regal commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ knew the answer to that question.

"I can understand the reasons as to why, but you do know that changing your name cannot erase the past – or the parts we want to leave behind," Natarle said. The look in Fllay's eyes, full of suppressed hurt and anguish, told Natarle that she had hit the nail on the head. As both of them entered the elevator that would bring them to the mess hall, Natarle took the chance to say what she wanted to say without the risk of anyone overhearing them.

"Angel...Fllay, I know it still hurts after all this time...but you have to let those wounds heal. You have to let it go. If this goes on, you will run the risk of a break-down..."

"Please, Natarle, call me Angel. I cannot be Fllay anymore. I cannot go back to those days anymore. Even if I could, there is only one person I want to call me by that name again..." Fllay's voice, like her body, was shaking with barely-suppressed emotion, "And he's not here anymore..."

Natarle did not speak. No words of hers could ease the pain that Fllay hid beneath her confident exterior, nor put to rest the angry ghosts that refused to leave until the book was balanced. The only reassurance that the dark-haired commander could give was to put a hand on the shoulder of her younger counterpart, and tell her that she was not alone on the journey.

"We both wanted a second chance, but there was a price that we had to pay. Yes, we. You're not alone. Don't forget that," Natarle said, "And don't forget the reasons why we made the decisions we made after the War ended."

Fllay's lips curved into a smile, the air of gloom fading. Seeing that the mood had lightened enough, Natarle needed to keep both their minds off an amethyst-eyed teenager whose ghost stood beside the two women, the light of the star ocean making those soulful orbs burn brilliantly. Natarle closed her eyes, banishing the ghost, before speaking once more.

"Angel, I've been meaning to ask you something. When you told me you were joining the Earth Forces back then, I assumed you were going to be doing something that dealt with Tactical Operations. You were quite adept back when I commanded the _Dominion._ Why did you..."

"Choose to be a Mobile Suit pilot?" Fllay finished Natarle's sentence.

Natarle nodded.

"Well," Fllay said after a minute of thoughtful silence, "to be honest, I did not have the intention of being one at all. I wanted to command my own ship and, eventually, my own Flotilla. I wanted to be like you and Captain Murrue. I've never forgotten the kind of loyalty and discipline the both of you inspired. The _Archangel_'s crew had, as one, after the fiasco at Alaska, defected as one entire group, severing any ties they had with the EA because they had faith in their captain's actions and decisions than ones made by the superiors she answered to."

'_A tradition I'm thankful that has not changed throughout human history,'_Natarle thought, remembering just how many generals and national leaders had been gunned down by their own men for stepping over the line. Patrick Zala, the late Chairman of PLANT, had been a most recent addition to that list.

"However," Fllay continued, "it wasn't until I realized something within me that my career as a Mobile Suit pilot began. After a while, I saw that even if I did become as good a captain as you or Captain Ramius, there would have been things I could have changed by being in the trenches."

"That is a very unforgiving truth you've chosen to embrace, Fllay. It must have been hard to accept the knowledge that you have fallen short," Natarle said quietly.

"It was. Though it was not as bad as the training in the MSOP Academy, and I can tell you that it was a nightmare trying to even get into the MS cockpit. Every time I did, I would see his final battle," Fllay whispered, her mind's eye replaying the titanic clash between Kira's Freedom and Rau le Creuset's Providence, "But, it was this little one," and she nodded in Tori's direction, "that kept my wits and my sanity from going to pieces."

Natarle chuckled then, "It is strange how one can find inspiration in the unlikeliest of places. I'll bet that your superiors didn't believe that Tori could be as helpful as it proved to be."

"They were sceptical at first, but when I had overcome my fear of getting into the cockpit and started getting results... they started keeping their opinions to themselves. It was difficult at first," and Fllay paused, as if trying to find the right words, "but it feels **natural** for some reason. It was as if my hands were being guided by something...or someone...I could not see. I re-wrote the entire OS from top to bottom in seconds. Just like that..." Fllay snapped her fingers for emphasis just as the doors to the elevator opened to the Mess Hall deck, "You should have seen the looks on the faces of the Techies...it was hilarious."

'_If that was the case, I would have wished that her unseen guide could have led her to a more peaceful life than this. I'm too set in my ways to change, but she has a full life ahead of her. She should be doing things girls her age should be doing. Hanging out with friends, worrying about project deadlines and exams...but she can't go back to that. Not after what she has seen. And to think that, once upon a time, I was among those who thought those who wanted nothing more than to not get involved in the War indecisive fools...' _Natarle thought as the two of them floated in companionable silence towards the mess hall. When they arrived, they were greeted by the smell of something far better than what was normally served in the mess halls of the Earth Alliance navy. A look at the meal that Kimsey had prepared had made Natarle wonder just where her First Officer had managed to stash the ingredients, even as she knew that the gesture was an unspoken apology for her conduct earlier. A glance at Fllay's delighted face made Natarle chuckle; it was clear that the red-haired pilot of the Avenger Phoenix Gundam loved good food as much as she did. After all, it was a proven fact that good food improved morale which was why crew members who were adept at cooking as they were at their assigned tasks were highly sought after. No captain wanted to end up with bland food or, worse, food poisoning. Thankfully, Kimsey was both. And during her off-duty periods, the First Officer would be among the ship's cooks helping prepare the meals.

"Tell me, Kimsey," Fllay asked as she and Natarle took their seats, "How did you manage to get the ingredients for this?"

The First Officer grinned, "I have a few friends in the logistics department who owe me a few favours. Come on. Dig in before the food gets cold."

They did just that. Kimsey, for her part, wanted to know a little more of Angel. There were plenty of things she heard about the red-haired pilot that did not make sense. Mentally warning herself not to make the mistake she made earlier, the golden-haired officer asked regarding a rumour that said that she was unbeatable in aerial combat – a rumour proven when 5 squadrons of Strike Daggers and a _Archangel_-class battleship failed to even scratch the paint job on a single Gundam.

Fllay laughed, "Actually, the rumour you heard has three parts to it. The first is where my instructors and classmates in the Academy gave me my call-sign. The second is how I managed to convince the higher-ups that I was the best candidate for the Avenger Phoenix, and the third was how I advanced so quickly up the ranks."

"Now, this is something worth hearing," Kimsey said, her curiosity aroused, "From ensign to lieutenant and ace pilot in two years is a record rarely broken. Please, continue."

Kimsey glanced to her superior. Natarle herself looked interested. It had taken the latter more than five to acquire her rank of Lieutenant, and that was through a lot of hard work.

"Let me state for the record that doing it wasn't easy. There were a lot of good people in the MSOP Academy's training program. I had to, in the beginning, use every trick in the book, to get an advantage over my peers. Half of the time, my schemes worked. When they didn't, I knew there and then who I could remove from the playing field without too much effort – and who I had to be wary of. In truth, all I did was to adhere to a simple rule – something a good number of them forgot in the heat of battle."

"And that was?" Kimsey asked.

"You know this one, Kimsey," Fllay said, "Take into consideration the unpredictable elements that can take place during battle and keep them to your advantage. That way, you'll always been two or three steps ahead of your enemy – and have a nasty surprise waiting in the wings."

"Ah, that rule," Kimsey replied, "I see the MS Academy has imparts the same lessons the other military academies teach."

"But, it apparently didn't take. Most of the guys there can't even put up a decent fight when the fighting got up close and personal. And don't get me started on their marksmanship. Even with the more advanced targeting arrays on the Strike Daggers, they can still miss. I think you can imagine the reactions of the school's instructors without me telling you," Fllay bit into the toast she was holding, "But, regardless of our difference in skill levels, they taught me an important lesson."

"Which was?"

"No matter how bad the odds are, there is always a chance of winning the battle," Fllay replied, "And when there is something you wish to protect, hold nothing back. Be prepared to give your life to achieve that aim."

"I find it hard to believe that you could learn those lessons in war games and training simulators alone," Natarle spoke finally, a statement that the blonde First Officer of the _Shield of Destiny_ agreed with whole-heartedly. War games, the latter added, could only teach so much. So where, Kimsey asked finally, did the red-haired pilot learn those lessons from?

Fllay did not reply immediately, but her expression became haunted, as her memories took her back to days that were seared deep into her psyche. Those lessons had been learnt in the backdrop of an insane war, its words penned in the blood of those who wanted nothing more than for it to end. Natarle, seeing the expression, swiftly intervened.

"Kimsey, having learnt those mistakes now instead of later is all that really matters," Natarle said, "As long as you have learnt from them, the lesson was not a wasted one."

Kimsey was not a fool. She saw the expressions on both the faces of her commander and the Avenger Phoenix's pilot. She had crossed the line again! Twice in less than two hours! She knew she had to say something before they got the idea that she was an insensitive bitch. But her tongue was tied. There was something between her captain and Lieutenant Allster, something that outsiders were not privy to. And that something was, if their expressions were any indication, something sad and painful. Thankfully, her commander came to her rescue, changing the subject as quickly as she would have her ship change direction.

"The Fiery Angel," Natarle said thoughtfully, a playful smirk on her face, "Whoever gave you that name had good taste. And was probably quite taken with you..."

"Well, what can I say?" Fllay gave back as good as she got, "I may not be a pop idol, but I am still capable of turning heads, Natarle. My time in service has **not** damaged my taste in fashion or my good looks. It is natural for someone like me to have admirers. Yes, even those on the opposite side want my autograph...after they've turned this lovely body of mine into so much charcoal. Fame does have its perks, doesn't it?"

Natarle laughed, then, and Kimsey fought back a snicker. The blonde First Officer was the first to recover, and proceeded to ask a question, "But that still doesn't explain how you got to Lieutenant so fast. Care to share that little secret?"

"I only got my rank after doing two things: beat every instructor who said that they were better than me in record time, and doing the same to every high-ranking MS pilot in the war games. The second is to be involved in saving the life of a very famous public figure. Combine those two events and _viola!_ You get the attention of the powers-that-be," Fllay had that smug look on her face again.

"Famous public figure...?" Kimsey looked baffled, until her sharp mind made the connection. While there had been attacks on the officials of both the PLANTs and the EA, there had been one that had threatened to destabilise the fragile treaty between Earth and PLANT. One of the extremist factions had planned to assassinate the songstress, only to be thwarted by a lone Strike Dagger. And that Strike Dagger's pilot was...

"You," Kimsey breathed, "You were the one that saved Lacus Clyne."

Fllay raised her cup in acknowledgement.

"She must have put in a good word for you back with Command," Kimsey said.

"More or less," Fllay replied enigmatically before turning her attention back to Natarle, "Which reminds me, Captain Badgiruel. Did the people at the top ever say why they wanted you to become captain of the newest Archangel Mk-2 battleship when you lost the one you were captain of? You're an excellent captain, but with that on your record, I thought they would have picked someone else for the job."

Natarle finished off the last slice of her toast before replying, "Trust me, there were those who were not happy with my being selected to command this ship. My abandoning the _Dominion_ is, as you have already guessed, a black mark on my record. There were many on the tribunal that wanted me either out of the Earth Forces or imprisoned for voluntarily causing the death of a high-ranking Earth Alliance government official, never mind the fact that that person had tried to engineer the deaths of over a billion people. There were those, of course, who supported my actions, but even they pointed out that I should have considered alternatives."

Natarle finished what was left on her plate before she continued, "But the one factor that had the tribunal choose to drop all charges was the fact that they needed people they knew who were capable of keeping their heads under fire. They tried to convince Murrue and Mwu to rejoin the Earth Alliance, but those two cannot forget nor forgive what had taken place at Alaska."

"So that explains why I could never find them or the _Archangel _stationed at any of the Earth Alliance bases. They're part of the SENTINELS, aren't they?" Fllay asked.

Natarle nodded, "Murrue is the Admiral of the SENTINEL 1st Squadron. Mwu is her second-in-command. The _Archangel_ is the 1st Squadron's flagship. I have reason to believe that those two were the ones who are responsible for the formation of the SENTINELS. It's strange, isn't it, how things have turned out?"

"Yes. Speaking of how things change, I take it the both of you have heard the reports regarding the Avenger Phoenix, haven't you?" Fllay asked as she sipped her orange juice.

Kimsey was the first to reply, "The official report states that the Avenger Phoenix was constructed from the remains of the Freedom Gundam that our recovery crews managed to recover in the aftermath of the Bloody Valentine War and that it was upgraded in a joint project involving the EA, the PLANTs and Orb when each of the factions were in the process of developing new Gundams themselves. The technology that forms the core systems of the Avenger Phoenix was called...what was it? Animus...? Yes, that was it. I think that word means 'Heart' or 'Soul' in Latin, if my memory serves me correctly. Did I miss anything?"

Fllay smiled as she listened to what the _Shield of Destiny_'s First Officer revealed what she knew. She got most of the main points, but there was one important detail that its creator had deliberately left out in his report regarding the Gundam.

"You are right on all points, Captain, save one. The report you have in your possession is incomplete. The Avenger Phoenix's creators, Doctor Gustav Keefer and Professors Benedict Cole and Shala Bano, and I are the only ones who know. But, you would have eventually found out what that secret is, so I might as well let the cat out of the bag," Fllay said. Kimsey and Natarle listened carefully as the red-haired pilot revealed what had been hidden in plain view. In its avian mode, Fllay said, the Avenger Phoenix lives up to its name as its cuts a flaming path through the star ocean and that it can duplicate that effect by speed alone.

Natarle raised an eyebrow, "By speed alone? Are you telling me that the Phoenix is capable of such speeds? Its theoretically impossible...the armour would melt from the temperature..."

"Not if the armour that is protecting the Avenger Phoenix is the very secret that its creators have not mentioned in their report," Fllay said, "You know how each Gundam is unique in its construction and armament. The same applies to the Phase Shift Armour each is equipped with. The armour that the Avenger Phoenix has is available **ONLY** to the Animus-class Gundams: Trans-Adapting Phase Shift Armour, or TAPSA."

"What can it do?" Kimsey asked, "And why is it so superior to Phase Shift Armour?"

"Well, for one, for one, it allows the Gundam to perform atmospheric escape and re-entry on its own. I highly doubt it can do the first, as the Avenger Phoenix's thrusters – powerful as they are – cannot produce the velocity required for it to break free of the Earth's gravity. Doctor Gustav has promised me, however, that he will remedy that problem as soon as possible," Fllay shook her head in mock exasperation, "The TAPSA is also more durable than the Phase-Shift Armour that the first Gundams were equipped with, and requires considerably less energy consumption. The last feature of the TAPSA is that it incorporates a self-repair system."

"A self-repair system...?" Natarle and Kimsey had stopped eating as each tried to remember where exactly they had heard of such a system. The dark-haired commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ drew a deep breath as she finally realized where exactly she had heard it. Fllay nodded, indicating that she too had been surprised when she found out. Trans-Adapting Phase Shift Armour was based off the self-repairing carapaces of Orbital Frames, the highly-advanced Mobile Suits of a distant, glorious past that humanity longed to return to. The TAPSA was, if reports from the EA's R&D division were to be believed, extremely close to living armour, lacking only the necessary components to complete a weapon utterly obedient to the will of its operator, even if the latter was not in its cockpit.

"You don't mean to say..." Kimsey said. Fllay held up a hand to silence her.

"Yes, they have done it. But that was not the thing that surprised me the most," Fllay looked around, checking to see if anyone was listening in to their conversation.

"And what would that be?" Natarle asked.

"Each of the new Animus-class Gundams is equipped with a newly developed A.I. System that is **nothing**," Fllay emphasised the word, "like the standard A.I. systems that the Strike Daggers or even the M1 Astrays have. I don't know the details, but I do know that you'll get to meet her once we link up with the pilots from ZAFT and Orb. All of the Animus Gundams are interconnected by this one A.I."

"Excuse me. 'Her'? The A.I. has a woman's personality?" Kimsey tried to digest what she had just heard.

"Like I said, I don't know the whole story – save that it **is** a she and that the A.I.'s name is Skylar. I met her when I first climbed into the Avenger Phoenix's cockpit. Skylar is, from what I can tell, one of the new security features of the Animus-class Gundams. If any one of them is, at any time, captured by the enemy, all they would have would be the world's largest paper weight."

"What do you mean?" Kimsey asked, "Are you saying that Skylar acts as the Animus Gundam's _deus ex machina_?"

"The core program of each Animus Gundam is made so that each machine cannot function without Skylar. It's like a puzzle that is randomized every ten seconds. Only Skylar knows the patterns and networking, allowing her to create a direct link between the pilot and the Animus Gundam. In addition, the complexity of the Animus Gundam sees to it that no other A.I. type used in the Earth Sphere can be used on it; doing so will cause the complete collapse of the TAPSA."

"Talk about high security," the blonde First Officer said, "But wait...you mentioned earlier that we would meet up with this A.I. only when we link up with the ZAFT and Orb pilots. Don't you need her in order to operate the Avenger Phoenix...?"

The confusion on Kimsey's face mirrored Natarle's. Just what have those white-coats in R&D been up to? Practically everything that the red-haired pilot was telling them was Egyptian, but a look at Fllay told them that they could expect no answers from her. It was good enough that she could explain the basics of what made her Gundam tick. Go any further, and Kimsey knew that she and her superior would need to reach for the nearest tranquiliser to salve the pain of a titanic headache.

"Skylar transmitted herself back to my carrier the minute I docked on the_Shield_. She said she was going to head over to the PLANT where the 6 ZAFT Animus Gundams were and help them prepare for the operation via the IPCS(2). Of the 12 Animus Gundams, only mine was completed ahead of schedule. The 3 Animus Gundams Orb has were only finished yesterday, so I suspect we'll have to meet them en route to the area of operations," Fllay said.

"Now, hold on a second here. Orb has 3 Animus Gundams, ZAFT has 6, and we only have**one**? What happened to the other two...?"

"Calm down, Kimsey. The other two must be back on Earth. I take it that there were unexpected problems in their construction and that was why the top brass chose to send Angel and the Phoenix first. Am I right in assuming this?" Natarle asked, trying to keep Kimsey's resentment of ZAFT under control.

"The Scythe Griffon and the Blazing Fist (3) Gundam will eventually link up with the battle-group in time for the mission. But, as things stand, we might have to wait for a week while the engineers iron out the problems. That's all I'm allowed to say; the shiny stars at PLANT Neo-Stratos will fill you in on the rest," Fllay said. Natarle nodded, satisfied with Fllay's answer, but a glance at Kimsey told the commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ that her First Officer was not. Kimsey stood up, excusing herself from the hall, and indicated that she was going to make contact with the Lunar Headquarters for a status update. Once out of sight, Natarle let out a deep sigh at the way her First Officer had acted.

"No matter how much time has passed, whatever it is that one sees and feels during war and strife dies only with one's final breath," Fllay spoke softly, her voice holding that undeniable edge of pain that made Natarle flinch. The dark-haired officer played with a lock of her hair, unable to find any words that would comfort her crimson-haired counterpart without revealing too much to the _Shield of Destiny_'s First Officer. But, she knew indirectly as to the events and the person the second was speaking of.

"You miss him more than ever," Natarle said, fighting back the tremor in her voice. Fllay tightened her grip on her glass, a clear indication that Natarle had batted the ball out of the park on the first swing. Natarle put her hand over the hand of the younger girl's, a quiet gesture to have the latter speak her mind. And Fllay, knowing that the person before her had strode the same rocky road, let the words flow out.

"When I first laid eyes on him, there wasn't much about him that impressed me. Plain, unassuming...he was not the type that stood out. But, regardless, I heard stories about Kira from Sai and the rest," Fllay smiled briefly as she mentioned her schoolmates who had chosen to fight alongside the crew of the _Archangel_ when history was made, "Can you imagine how shocked I was when I realized that he had a small fan-club? That someone lacking in anything girls of my age and status considered noteworthy could have a group of admirers? But, those fan-girls I spoke to had said the same thing Miriallia said – he was kind and intelligent. He disliked fighting, and his reputation for defusing tense situations had had even the University's clubs call him in whenever they needed to resolve disputes.

"And this," Fllay continued, "was the same person who piloted the Strike. This was the same person who had single-handedly humbled ZAFT's finest and whose kill-score has never been surpassed by any EA pilot throughout the course of the Bloody Valentine War. And I saw this same person cry over every life he took. I never understood it then, and my father's death made matters worse. I saw him as a tool, Natarle, in which to bleed the entire Coordinator race white before my thirst for vengeance was satiated. And yet, despite all that, he chose to stay with me even though he knew what my plans were..."

"Angel, you're not the only person who made that mistake. I did as well. Only, in my case, I cannot take any comfort in my memories of him. I treated him as a soldier whose every action was directed to the ultimate aim of winning the War. I did not treat him as a person," Natarle said, neglecting to tell Fllay of the one moment when that had almost changed (4), "I was envious. He loved you. While your actions, though selfish, kept him human, I, through mine, wanted to turn him into something less than that."

"We had so many chances to make right our mistakes, but we ignored each and every one of them," Fllay said, studying her reflection in the glass.

"But at least," Natarle smiled, an idea taking shape in her mind, "we have a chance to do so. We can thank him for that chance."

Fllay saw that smile, and caught on quickly, "You have an idea. What is it?"

"You know what day is coming up soon. To me, it's the perfect time to say those words again. I don't know if he'll hear them or not, but we both know we have to say them," Natarle said, raising her digital watch to show Fllay the date. It took Fllay a while before she understood what Natarle was saying. The coming day Natarle mentioned was the second Anniversary that marked the end of the Bloody Valentine War. News networks throughout the Earth Sphere had reported that celebrations were being planned for every major city on Earth and off-world. A memorial ceremony to honour the dead would also be held, to be broadcasted to the vid-screen of every home in the Earth Sphere.

And Lacus Clyne would be singing in a concert held at the very PLANT that the _Shield of Destiny_ would be docking at. Fllay shifted uneasily. She had no wish to come face-to-face with the lovely songstress.

"Natarle, can I..." Fllay began, but Natarle cut her off.

"I read our orders and it states that our mission does not begin until after the Second Anniversary celebrations are over. I know you are not on good terms with Miss Lacus, but maybe you can earn some measure of peace if you went and talked to her. Avoiding the issue will only makes matters worse. You and Lacus are not as different as the both of you would like to believe. You loved the same person, and you have watched that same person die so that you may live. Is the pain she hides beneath any different from yours? Is the driving force that drives you, Angel, any different from hers? No, it isn't – which is the reason why I suggest this course of action. The both of you can help each other," Natarle paused briefly to fill up both her glass and Fllay's, "I admit, it's not one of my better ideas...but it is the only one I can give. Carrying that pain does one of two things, Angel. It can become so heavy that your soul breaks under its weight...or you become the very thing that you swore to oppose."

Fllay knew that talking to Lacus Clyne as Natarle had suggested was not going to be easy. Their first meeting had been less than pleasant, and they both knew how that meeting had ended. But Natarle was right. That was one issue that had been left unresolved. It was long past time to make it right.

"If you want to be Angel Allster, pilot of the Avenger Phoenix," Natarle continued, "then you must let Fllay Allster, daughter of George Allster, breathe and speak one last time before she is finally allowed to die."

Fllay did not speak as she considered Natarle's suggestion. Yes, it was time to let Fllay Allster breathe one last time. She raised her glass, acknowledging the dark-haired officer's proposal, "I will do as you suggest. What I must do requires me to be Angel Allster; this is a path that Fllay Allster cannot tread."

Natarle smiled, raising her glass, "You will always be Fllay Allster deep inside. But by doing this, you can let that part of you rest easy knowing that you have done the one thing Kira would have wanted you to do. To his memory!" and tapped the glass against Fllay's to seal the oath they had made.

"To his memory," Fllay echoed, softly, "And to that promised tomorrow."

**X X X X X X**

_**ZAFT Nazca-class carrier, Enuma-Elish**_

_**En route to PLANT Neo-Stratos**_

_**At that very moment...**_

Cross Lionheart, Lieutenant-Commander of ZAFT's 11th Mobile Suit Squadron, the Steel Angels, sneezed for what was the fourth time in the last ten minutes, causing the people walking next to him to wonder if he was coming down with a cold or if the ship's air filtration system was due for an overhaul. A low-gravity environment was not exactly the best place to have a strong sneezing fit, as it would result in the individual being reduced to a human-shaped pinball in short order. Fortunately, this time round, Cross's companions were ready to stop him from taking off like a rocket.

"Damn, boss. If you keep sneezing like this, we might **have** to tie a life-line to you to keep you from becoming the a human pinball," one of Cross's companions said as he pulled him back to the floor.

"Or put a bag over my head to act as a suppressor. I think I might be coming down with a cold. Good thing I tie my hair..." and Cross sneezed again, causing his friends to grab hold of him and the MS commander to swear colourfully as he regained his footing, "Can't be an allergy, as I don't have any. Though I cannot say the same for your antics..."

"Aw, that's a nice thing to say about the guy who saved your sorry ass three months ago from your fans in the Ockzam's Razor faction. You know... the ones that were about to gang-bang you from all sides?" the other man said in mock-hurt.

"Oh, excuse me for my forgetfulness. Oh wait, I seem to recall telling you – no,_**yelling**_ at you – that where you were heading was where my 'fans' were gathering for a flanking action. And the only reason why you had to save my 'sorry ass' was because I saved yours first, Raijin."

Raijin tried to feign ignorance, but it did not fool the other man, who was on the verge of an explosion. To any casual observer, it looked like a fist-fight was about to erupt then and there, but the crew of the_Enuma-Elish_ knew that this was another bout of bickering common to those who have spent so much time with one another that they were familiar with the other party's personality and quirks.

"Anyway, the fact that I saved your ass aside," Raijin remarked, causing Cross to develop an anger-cross, "the only other reason I can give regarding your bouts of sneezing would be an old Japanese superstition in which that special someone out there was either thinking or talking about you."

Cross rolled his eyes, "Yeah, right. As if there is anyone outside of the_Enuma-Elish_ and our friends in the Constellation who know who I am. Even our superiors back at Headquarters barely know who I am...and I'm in charge of a band of troublemakers who are, at times, more dangerous than the extremists I fight!"

"That's harsh..." Raijin developed a sweat-drop.

"But true, nonetheless," a new voice spoke, causing both men to turn around to see a blue-haired woman float towards them, "And Cross is mine. No one gets him without throwing me out of the ring. I always defend what is mine."

Tiffa Ayanami, commander of the Steel Angels, grabbed her lover's arm in a fashion that caused the second to go red, and his companion to gag. Seeing this, the blue-haired girl smacked the larger Raijin up the head with enough force to send him flying forward. Cross winced. Of all the pilots in the Steel Angel squadron, Raijin was by far its strongest member. To see him manhandled by a girl half his size was... amusing, to say the least. Raijin spent most of his free time in the_Enuma-Elish_'s gym, convinced that he could become stronger despite the fact that he was already insanely tough. Cross had seen Raijin in action; he doubted that **anyone** in ZAFT could beat the enormous man single-handedly. Raijin, however, had mentioned that he had been beaten one time – and beaten into the mat – by a visiting ZAFT Bloodhawk. That had surprised Cross. But what had surprised Cross the most was that the big man looked, for lack of a better word, scared. Raijin was not a man easy to intimidate. His dark skin, his wild mane of black hair and crimson eyes had caused punks to back off before they ended up in a hospital. And his size had given even the squadron quartermaster a headache; the latter had been forced to custom-order Raijin's kit when he first enlisted in ZAFT.

"_**I have a bear in my damn office,"**_ the quartermaster had yelled to his aide, _**"So unless you get clothes to those measurements I sent you, one of our guys will be walking around ZAFT HQ naked!"**_

The description stuck. From that day, Raijin Strikan became fondly known as 'The Bear'. When he finally became part of ZAFT's Mobile Suit squadrons, he altered it to 'Hercules', after the Greek hero of legend (and the character of an ancient anime series known as Fate – Stay Night, which Cross suspects is the main reason why he changed his call-sign from Bear to Hercules – he adored the character).

Raijin managed to find his footing, and gave Tiffa a dirty look. The latter merely stuck out her tongue, her violet eyes daring him to make another jibe. Man, that girl can be scary when she wants to be. Raijin looked at Cross, whose expression told him that messing with Tiffa was (and always has been) a bad idea. The big man sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get any sympathy from the two lovers. But God, could they get a room before all that mushiness gave him diabetes?

"So, boss, when are you gonna tell us the reason why we are going to this PLANT first and not getting to the job at hand?" Raijin asked as he floated beside them down the corridor.

"HQ wants us to attend the Memorial Ceremony before we begin the mission. The people in Intelligence said that the chances of one of the extremist factions trying something there is high. And I agree. That event will host the largest gathering of both Naturals and Coordinators ever since the end of the Bloody Valentine War. All it takes are several well-hidden bombs and we'll have a riot – and a lot of dead people – on our hands. Security there will be tight, you can count on that, but the authorities are not taking any chances. Besides, Command wanted us to have some shore leave before we begin since they figure that it's going to be the only one we will have until after the after the mission is done," Cross said.

"Shore leave...? Us! You're kidding, right? We never had much of anything that could be called shore leave for the last eight months – we begged them for some time off, but they gave us the bird – and now they hand it to us? Just like that? What's the catch?" Raijin asked, stopping right in front of Cross. Seeing that the big man would not move until he got an answer, Cross rubbed his temple to fight off an impending headache.

"Well, the fine print says that one: we're receiving new Mobile Suits at PLANT Neo-Stratos, as someone back in the Homeland Defence Ministry decided that that was a good place for top-secret military hardware to be deposited. Personally, the one who made that call is an idiot. And two: we're attending two different concerts. Not only will we be attending the one with Lacus Clyne singing, we'll also be attending Helena's debut. And everyone in the squadron knows how important this is to her. I know you're not a fan of opera or classical music, Raijin, but you're going whether you like it or note. Don't make me drag you there."

Raijin groaned as the reasons of why a Constellation Team given the rare gift of shore leave became obvious. Then he stopped. Wait a minute...

"Wait a minute!" his mind jumping on a detail that Cross did not mention, "Since when does a concert hall allow any military personnel to sing in it?"

"Since I called in a couple of favours with some of our commanders from ZAFT HQ to not only allow Helena some time to sing in front of an audience, but to do so in front of the talent spotters there as well. We both know that this is something that Helena has long since dreamt of doing. Whether the talent agents like her or not, this is the moment she has long been waiting for. She may never get this chance again in this lifetime, and I don't want her to live out the rest of her life knowing that she missed it. I believe that this is one of the three credos you live your life by, correct?" Cross asked.

"You got that right, boss. To each, a chance to fulfil his or her dreams. To each, a truth, and to each, a path in life. And mine is to protect this reality I live in that was bought by the blood of heroes and giants," Raijin said proudly. Cross smiled when he heard those words, remembering the first time he met Raijin. Before he had joined ZAFT, Raijin Strikan was a vigilante, protecting the neighbourhood of the PLANT he had lived on. He had fought gangs, triads and syndicates using that credo as the unbreakable rock upon which he stood. Naturals and Coordinators in the neighbourhood loved Raijin, whose heart was as big as his size. The day that Cross met Raijin was when the latter was in the middle of a fight with a gang of Naturals who were in the middle of beating a Coordinator within an inch of his life. Cross had joined the fight. The end result had left eight gangsters on the floor, and four with broken bones. The rest had run off before Cross decided to draw _Nanatsu-yoru_ from its scabbard.

And that had been the beginning. Cross had asked Raijin if he was willing to do what he did as part of a team that the former was putting together. Raijin had refused at first, saying that he wasn't able to confront the enemies that Cross wanted him to fight, that he wanted to only protect those that were oppressed. When Raijin said that, Cross had little choice but to point out that the big man's reasoning was flawed. Pointing out at several such examples throughout human history soon convinced Raijin, who added a clause to his enlistment that he would not be part of a rigid command structure that would hamper with his ability to act. Cross agreed, and never saw cause to regret his decision.

"Well then, that explains why Helena has been practicing lately. Since my room was next to hers, it is next to **impossible** to sleep whenever she hits those high notes. I swear that girl could shatter glass if she went any higher," Raijin chuckled, "You don't have to force me, boss. I'll go whether or not you drag me there."

"Good. That settles the argument," Cross said as he and Tiffa floated past Raijin. Despite his earlier agreement, the big man made a last ditch attempt to save himself. Raijin complained that his going to a classical concert would end up with him sleeping or in a body bag, and begged Cross to have Helena reconsider her choice of songs or to leave him out of it. He would do anything. Cross stared at Raijin stonily, and like a broken record, told him that he was going and that if he wanted a change in Helena's song selection, he might as well ask the white-haired girl himself. When the three finally reached the mess hall, the others who were waiting for them were quietly laughing at the desperate pleas of Raijin to be excluded from the event.

"Sounds like Raijin is fighting this shore leave idea tooth and nail all the way. You never know when to quit, do you, Raijin?" a red-haired man asked, laughing at the helpless look on his friend's face.

"Him...? Quit? That big ape does not even know the meaning of the word. We might well have to tie him up, gag him, and then drag him to the concert hall," a violet-haired girl replied, trying her best to look serious. The visible twitch on the woman's lips, however, showed that she was but a step away from losing her composure.

Raijin scowled at his two friends, shaking a meaty fist adorned with tattoos, "You can try, boy. But let me ask you this: do you feel lucky? Do ya, punk?"

"Well, boss, what's the verdict?"

"He's going," Cross said. The red-haired man made a face when the woman sitting across him raised a hand, palm upwards, as if expecting payment of some kind. The former reluctantly pulled out a cash-card and handed it to the latter. When the big man saw the transaction taking place, he stormed over to the table, towering over its two occupants.

"Cykes..! Ayanes! You mean to tell me you two knew about this ahead of time and the both of you made a bet on whether I would go?" Raijin banged his fists on the table.

"Yup," a smug-looking Ayanes said as she waved the card in front of Raijin. One look at the card revealed just how much Cykes had lost, and how confident Ayanes had been of winning the bet.

"150 credits...! You were that sure on how much I didn't want to go to Helena's concert?"

"Actually, it was a bet on how many times you would try to get out of going in the final stretch of the hallway before coming to the mess hall. Cykes bet 11 times. I bet 15. We both knew that you wanted out badly. We didn't know just **how** badly," Ayanes said as she ran her fingers through her deep violet hair to show the giant that she had the brain to go with her looks.

Raijin twitched in annoyance. Ayanes knew him too well, and had cornered him. He raised his hands in surrender. No point resisting the inevitable, and trying to be a jerk was not going to help matters any. Cross saw how the expression of the latter had softened and knew that Raijin had finally given up trying to excuse himself. He looked at Ayanes, nodding in thanks. Her plan to get Raijin to come along had worked flawlessly. It surprised Cross on how Ayanes could come up with a plan that only those she discussed it with understood. Her strategic foresight had been one of the primary reasons that had led to Cross recruiting her into Constellation Team Leo. Cross had met Ayanes in the very same hospital he had been recovering in. The latter had been injured when the GINN Mobile Suit had malfunctioned, causing her to crash into the nearby equipment warehouse. The end result of that accident had been a broken arm and a concussion. Ayanes, he found, had a passion for reading, and it was during one such reading session that he asked her why she had joined the military, especially since she had said that she disliked fighting. The amber-eyed girl had smiled, saying that sometimes, it was necessary that the few take up arms so that the many will not have reason to fear losing everything.

At first, Cross had believed that Ayanes wasn't qualified to pilot a Mobile Suit until he fought against her in a real-time, non-lethal training engagement. 3 minutes into the fight, and he had quickly re-assessed his opinion of the violet-haired girl. She was a powerful opponent, skilled in the use of every weapon, but her strength laid in ranged combat and its application. She could accurately pick off an opponent at extreme ranges, or direct artillery fire with such accuracy that a well-planned advance could turn into a hurricane of steel and fire within moments. Cross had defeated her, but not before bearing witness to more than two-third of his team being removed from the playing field.

Ayanes preferred casual, comfortable wear compared to what girls her age on PLANT wore. Simple and practical – that was her motto. The only testament to her good taste were the two crimson ribbons on either side of her head, where two ponytails hung to her waist with the soft, violet cascade that shimmered in the light. Those ribbons, he knew, had butterflies sewn onto them. When Ayanes had become part of the Steel Angels, Cross had thought that she would take a call-sign related to them. Instead, the amber-eyed girl chose the Violet Jaguar as her sobriquet. And admittedly, it fit Ayanes Zirachans perfectly. Cross had seen the way Ayanes's amber eyes glowed whenever she fought; it made him pity whichever poor soul Ayanes had marked out to be her prey. The poor bastard would never know what hit him.

Cross took the tray the duty cook gave him before taking a seat at the table next to Ayanes and Cykes. Tiffa and Raijin followed his example. Ayanes and Cykes, despite being the first ones there, had not touched the food on their plates. And yet, none of them had touched their plates. Ever since the formation of the Steel Angels, one of the traditions of their group was that all of them would eat together. But since the last member of their group had not yet arrived, none of them would start eating.

"I hope Helena gets here soon. I'm starving," Cykes said as he sipped his coffee, his eyebrows rising in approval, "Finally! Some **real** coffee...! I've had enough of whatever piss that passes for it!"

"You said it," Tiffa said, sniffing the aroma, before taking a sip herself, "I swear, from here on out, I'm getting our ship's quartermaster to go **buy** a better grade of coffee than that lubricant that Logistics supplies us with."

"Isn't that a chargeable offence?" Raijin asked idly.

"No, it isn't. It won't be until Cross complains," Ayanes deadpanned, amber eyes playful. Light-hearted laughter and an annoyed scowl (from Cross) greeted that remark. It was a running bet among the Steel Angels and the crew of the _Enuma-Elish_ to see what type of food would cause the formidable commander of the Steel Angels to suffer indigestion. So far, he had been winning the bet hands down.

"If there's one thing that you'll always be remembered for, Cross, it will be for your iron stomach first and foremost," Cykes grinned as he hit the other man's stomach playfully, "The second is, of course, your reputation with the girls..."

Cross rolled his eyes. Cykes Sayers (5) was the _Enuma-Elish_'s resident trickster and joker, whose penchant for cracking hilarious jokes in the face of bad odds and tremendous pressure had earned him a reputation for being a borderline lunatic. He lived by a philosophy of dealing with things as they came, stating that worrying only made matters worse. For a young man of 19 and who looked like a rocker, Cykes was a lone wolf. When Cross pointed that out, the red-haired young man took it as his sobriquet – the Crimson Wolf. Where Cross had met Raijin in a street fight, he had met Cykes in the most unlikely place – an arcade. In every game but one, Cross had lost. But even in the one he won, Cykes had shown – after a brief tutorial in Mobile Suit Operations – what he was capable of. That was when Cross made his proposal. And like Raijin, Cykes flat out said that he didn't want to fight or hurt anyone nor did he have any reason to join ZAFT. Cross had said that he was not joining ZAFT, but the team that was being set up and tasked to defend four of the Homeland's PLANTs from any hostile elements. They would be independent of the chain of command and given more leeway than regular units. Cross rubbed his temple, remembering the glee in Cykes's eyes when he mentioned that the Constellation Teams did not wear the standard uniforms worn by most ZAFT units. The uniforms worn by the Constellation Teams was a blue and white uniform with black trimming. Each came with an armband that depicted the call-sign of the individual and which Constellation team he or she was part of.

While everyone laughed as Cykes found himself in a headlock – courtesy of Tiffa – Cross studied the young men and women who formed the Steel Angels. It amazed him that, despite their differences in character and beliefs, that they were all devoted to a single aim. Moulding them to be what they were today had been no easy task. He remembered how Cykes had gotten on the bad side of Ayanes, Tiffa and, later on, Helena. He remembered how Raijin had gotten into brawls with the _Enuma-Elish_'s marines. Cross remembered how many times had had thrown them into the brig to cool off. But, eventually, they and the ship's crew became close. Each rubbed off on the other. And it showed when, one day, he and Tiffa got a royal telling off by a division commander regarding a brawl involving the _Enuma-Elish_'s crew and his soldiers that had left a trendy nightclub in shambles. And when he visited them in the military detention centre, what did they find? His Steel Angels and the ship crew laughing and merrily as they re-enacted the fight that got them arrested in the first place.

Cross's amethyst eyes looked down at the symbol of his team. It had been Cykes's brainchild – a design cheerfully adopted by the other teams, and altered accordingly. For the Steel Angels, a silver cross and six wings superimposed on a sunburst around a circle of 12 stars which represented the twelve teams of the Constellation was their symbol._Seraphim_, a voice whispered softly in his mind, _the highest choir who stand next to God - the Choir from which the lovely Princess Lucifer was from in the days before the Great War. A War that had its beginning with God's decision to create Man in His image; it's no different from the Bloody Valentine War, is it, Cross Lionheart? Naturals created the Coordinators in the same way God created Adam; the former expulsed the latter for daring to reach that which was forbidden, and the Naturals sought to subdue their own creations in their jealousy. The Bloody Valentine War has an ending better than the one of the Great War...or the War of Wrath. Can you defend this ending long enough...so that it becomes more than just a memory?_

His train of thought was broken when Tiffa asked what was keeping the last member of the group, Helena, from joining them. Her being late was normal, but this late meant that she was either still sleeping or had gone off to edit her song-scripts.

"Well, considering that I live next to the girl, I can tell you she has been practising a lot," Raijin looked pointedly at Cross, blaming him for the sleepless nights that he had to suffer because of that, "She must have overslept."

Before anyone could say anything else, everyone heard the object of their discussion approaching. A song reached their ears, old and haunting. Cross recognised the song. It had been sung by a band whose songs were still treasured even in the present era.

"Gates of Dawn, by Secret Garden," Cross said, "Good choice."

Everyone on board the _Enuma-Elish_ knew that Helena would sing such songs to warm herself up prior to singing her intended song. Cross glanced at his companions, who were all silent, enjoying the melodious voice of their companion. Even the mess hall's cooks had stopped work to listen to Helena sing. When she finally entered the hall, Cross and the others realized that her eyes were closed, and that the young woman was completely in the thrall of her song. When she finally got her tray and turned about, did she finally realize that she had an audience. Helena's face went red.

Cross broke the long, awed silence by clapping, an act which broke everyone from the hypnosis that Helena had artfully weaved without even realizing it. The cooks did the same. Helena's face only got redder, but she bowed, quietly thanking them before taking a place next to Cross. Though Tiffa was jealous that another girl dared to sit next to her man, she knew that if it hadn't been for him, Helena would have ended up dead. Cross had never told anyone save Tiffa the main reason why Helena had joined the Steel Angels. And each time the two saw the girl, they never forgot it either.

Helena was the quietest member of the group, but that facade hid a raging passion unmatched by anyone Cross knew. Helena was, without question, a beautiful girl. Her long, snow-white hair and emerald eyes was rare even among the Coordinators. Even when he first saw her, Cross had to make sure that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. She had been, back then, walking into an old concert hall that had been slated to be demolished. Cross had followed her, wanting to warn her against entering, but lost sight of her by the time he entered. Only when she had started singing did he manage to find her. Standing on a stage, lit by the moonlight, Helena sang to the silence.. Cross had stood in the shadows so as not to be seen. Standing amidst the ruins, the song she sang caused Cross's heart to ache, and he admitted there and then that Helena was as good – if not better – than Lacus Clyne. When she had finished, Cross had watched in horror as Helena took a knife out from under her jacket and placed it over her heart. It was then that Cross commanded her to stop, his voice thunderous in the deafening silence. He remembered the look of utter torment in her eyes as he stood across her, bathed in the moonlight. He had asked her why she wanted to die. He did not speak words of comfort, because the look in her eyes told him that nothing he said would salve the hurt she felt inside.

Helena had told Cross her name, and the reason why she wanted to commit suicide. She had had enough of a world wet with the blood of the innocent. She was sick unto death of the sacrifices that had been made to preserve a future that seemed destined to repeat the mistakes of the past. Cross had been momentarily unable to say anything is the face of so harsh a truth. It was not a perfect world, Cross had finally said, but it was a world worth fighting for. Yes, the world **was** wet with the blood of the innocent...but it was also wet with the blood and tears of heroes and giants who had fought to preserve it. They had pledged their lives so that those who would live to see those days when the fighting ended would live those same days in hope and without fear. It was then that Cross realized where he had seen Helena's face – in a folder that had listed the profiles of soldiers that had left ZAFT after the end of the Bloody Valentine War. Cross's reason for doing so had been simple. Drawing upon those who chose to leave after the War's end bespoke of a desire to protect those they loved. With its end, they no longer saw the need to remain. Helena's name had stood out as she had never stated the reason why she had left in the first place. And maybe, it was that reason that pushed her over the edge.

Cross had asked her once more why she wanted to kill herself. Helena was not slow on the uptake. Helena told him that she was considered one of ZAFT's finest pilots whose formidable fighting skills saw to it that she was responsible for over fifty confirmed enemy kills – a statement that was supported by her military records. She had joined the war for one reason and one reason only – to exact revenge on the Naturals who murdered every last one of her family members when Junius-7 was destroyed. With the war's end, Helena knew that she had nothing left to live for. And with her entire family slain to the last, she had no one left to go back to. Her voice would never grace the ears of her newborn siblings who had died then. Cross was about to reply when Helena attempted to put thirty-centimetres of laser-sharpened steel into her heart. Cross grabbed the knife by its blade, halting its descent, and whispered softly into her ear.

"_**The pain you feel is one felt by countless others. You sang in this empty place, ruined and desolate, because it mirrors your sundered heart. You sang to the ghosts of those whose lives you took, to those who will have to live because of your actions and to those who have already passed on. You say that there is no one left for you to sing to, so why not sing for those who know your pain? **_

"_**Remind them – and remind yourself – that they are not alone. Give them the will to fight on, to overcome sorrow and hardship. And...if you will let me, if you want to, I can help you through the pain and show you that there will be a tomorrow better than the yesterday we left behind." **_

Cross relieved Helena of the knife so as to not allow her to see the blood that now dripped to the floor. The latter was a woman weighed down by so much guilt and anguish that to let her know she had hurt the person who had saved her would be a sin in itself. Helena had then thrown her arms around him and broke down. Cross had held her tightly, letting the young girl cry on his shoulder.

But, there was something else he remembered which he had dismissed at the time. When Helena cried, Cross had seen a red-haired girl and, an instant later, a pink-haired one taking her place. He did not know who they were, but he had a vague impression that, like Helena, they were crying. He had thought that his eyes were playing tricks on him for the second time in the last hour, but he knew that those visions, for lack of a better word, were real. Who were they, these two female ghosts who loved him? There were many red-haired girls and pink-haired ones on the PLANTs and on Earth. But these two, he knew, were important to him. Somehow, he knew they were a part of the past he had lost. But, as he had before, Cross had pushed the memory aside. That had not been the proper time to try and recover past memories. It had taken time for Helena to calm down, but she was grateful for Cross's intercession. She had been willing to repay him for giving back the hope she had lost. That was when Cross asked her to join the Steel Angels, to soar amongst the stars once more not as a vengeful angel, but as a protector. Helena agreed. And that night, under the light of the stars, the last member of the Steel Angels took her place among them. The only reminder of that night had been the scar caused by Helena's knife, but it had been a price worth paying.

Cross turned his attention back to his team-mates, informing them of what they were going to do when they arrived at Neo-Stratos, leaving out the part that they were going there to receive new Gundams for the mission at hand. It had been a long time since they all had shore leave, and that was more important that knowing the capabilities of their new suits. This was, as Tiffa had taught him, a moment that they all needed. It was where oaths were reaffirmed and where its takers reminded themselves who they were beneath the uniform and their sobriquets.

But, none of them would ever know that this joyous gathering would be their last together. A promised day was coming, and Fate had prepared the crucible in which the resolve of countless would be tested. Even though Tiffa had been warned two years ago by Ko Shiatar, her knowledge of things to come stood no chance of preparing Cross or their friends for the coming battles. Fighting against long odds with their lives on the line was normal to them, but only Tiffa knew just how long the odds were in the battles Cross would fight.

Tiffa also knew, but never told Cross, the name of the one who wanted him dead – a name that would be synonymous with death and destruction.

Griever Bloodbane.

_**To be continued...**_

**X X X X X X**

**Editor's Notes:**

(1) MSOP: Mobile Suit Operator Program. Set up in the later stages of the Bloody Valentine War to trained Mobile Armour Pilots to operate Mobile Suits. The Academy has, by C.E. 73, branched out throughout the entire Earth Alliance to ensure that the Earth Army has a steady supply of trained operators.

(2) IPCS: Inter-Planetary Communication Systems. Used for communications between the colonies, Earth and the moon. The system is based on technological templates that could be recovered after the end of the War of Wrath a thousand years ago. It was further improved, and the onset of the Bloody Valentine War saw to it that the IPCS for Earth, PLANT and the neutral states were customised for the use of each of the three factions. Hacking into the IPCS is insanely difficult, but not impossible.

(3) Blazing Fist Gundam: Originally known as Burning Neith Gundam in Kouryuo Sabre's original draft.

(4) For reference to this, read up 'Gundam SeeD Destiny: Lost Memories – Chapter 1' by Kouryuo Sabre.

(5) In Kouryuo Sabre's original draft, Cykes original name was Cykes Daystrom. I changed it to Cykes Sayers because it sounded more...Terran.

_**Character Profile 4:**_

_**Raijin Strikan, 11th Mobile Suit Squadron (Steel Angels); Constellation Team Leo**_

**Call-sign:** Hercules (Original call-sign was Black Night Bear, in Kouryuo Sabre's original draft)

**Age: **20

**Rank / Affiliation:** 2nd Lieutenant / ZAFT

**Eye colour/ hair colour/ Height:** Deep red/ black/ 195 cm

**Type:** Coordinator

_**Description:**_To look upon Raijin is to be reminded of the berserkers of old Earth. Dark-skinned, with crimson eyes and a build that puts a body-builder to shame, Raijin is easily the biggest and strongest man aboard the _Enuma-Elish_. And for a Coordinator, that's saying a lot. Raijin has been beaten only once, and that was by a ZAFT Bloodhawk Elite commander. Raijin hides a playful streak a mile wide, and is often the accomplice of his fellow Steel Angel, Cykes. The tattoos on Raijin's body are images of fiery swords, sunbursts and thunderbolts. Close combat expert.

_**Character Profile 5:**_

_**Cross Lionheart, 11th Mobile Suit Squadron (Steel Angels); Constellation Team Leo**_

**Call-sign:** Divine Lion

**Age: **18

**Rank / Affiliation:** Lieutenant-Commander / ZAFT

**Eye colour/ hair colour/ Height:** Amethyst/ dark brown/ 176 cm

**Type:** Coordinator

_**Description:**_The lover and companion of Tiffa Ayanami, commander of the Steel Angels, is a lean, well-built man with a leonine mane of brown hair and amethyst eyes that could melt a chocolate bar at a hundred paces – or turn reinforced armoured plating to slag. Cross Lionheart carries himself with a grace and pride reminiscent of the animal he named himself after. He is never seen without his katana,_Nanatsu-yoru_, by his side. The blade is over a thousand years old, though carbon-testing dates the blade to the days of Japan's feudal days. His past is a mystery – he was discovered by Tiffa and brought to a hospital, where he was treated by the renowned doctor, Alyssa Sears.

_**Character Profile 6:**_

_**Ayanes Zirachans, 11th Mobile Suit Squadron (Steel Angels); Constellation Team Leo**_

**Call-sign:** Violet Jaguar

**Age: **18

**Rank / Affiliation:** 2nd Warrant Officer / ZAFT

**Eye colour/ hair colour/ Height:** Amber/ Violet/ 162 cm

**Type:** Coordinator

_**Description: **_A lovely girl with amber eyes and long violet hair with two ponytails tied on either side of her head. Ayanes is a skilled pilot, familiar with the use of every weapon, but her main forte lies in ranged combat (and directing artillery fire). Loves books. She had met Cross in the same hospital he had been interred in after a freak accident where her MS's control systems malfunctioned.

_**Character Profile 7:**_

_**Cykes Sayers, 11th Mobile Suit Squadron (Steel Angels); Constellation Team Leo**_

**Call-sign:** Crimson Wolf

**Age: **19

**Rank / Affiliation:** Master Sergeant / ZAFT

**Eye colour/ hair colour/ Height:** Blue/ Red/ 160 cm

**Type:** Coordinator

_**Description:**_Cykes Sayers is a blue-eyed, red-haired rocker wannabe who loves computer games. A prankster at heart, whose antics have landed him in hot water more times than Cross can count. Easygoing by nature, he dislikes having too much responsibility. Cross met – and recruited – Cykes in a game arcade.

_**Character Profile 8:**_

_**Helena Evanescence, 11th Mobile Suit Squadron (Steel Angels); Constellation Team Leo**_

**Call-sign:**

**Age: **19

**Rank / Affiliation:** Master Sergeant / ZAFT

**Eye colour/ hair colour/ Height:** Emerald/White/160 cm

**Type:** Coordinator

_**Description:**_Helena was an ex-ace pilot of ZAFT, whose impressive service record had earned her medals. A woman who lost her entire family during the Junius-7 massacre, Helena joined ZAFT out of desire to exact vengeance upon the Naturals who took them away. Helena is the last member of the Evanescence family – every last one is already dead. When the war ended, Helena sought to end her life in order to end the torment of guilt and loneliness. Cross saved her, offering her a place in the Steel Angels, where she could prevent future tragedies from happening again. Helena loves singing, and her skills are such that she would easily rival and surpass Lacus Clyne if given the chance.

_**Constellation Teams (ZAFT Homeland Defence Force)**_

_**Editor's Note:**_ I know I mentioned the Constellation Teams that protected 4 PLANTs in the previous chapters in the aftermath of the Bloody Valentine War. So here they are, for your information (and mine and Kouryuo Sabre's as well). They're elite squadrons, but only two of the squadrons are Bloodhawk Elites. Each of the Constellation Teams have their own ships and support elements. They also work independently of ZAFT High Command, and have a reputation among the other ZAFT divisions (and ZAFT High Command) as being insubordinate mavericks (who nevertheless, get the job done).

The uniforms worn by Constellation Team pilots are similar in design to those worn by the Bloodhawk Elites, save that they are blue and white with black trimming. The personalised design depicting the individual's call-sign and the team he is part of is depicted on an armband which comes with the uniform.

Constellation Team Leo: 11th Mobile Suit Squadron, Steel Angels – Ship: Nazca-class, _Enuma-Elish_

Constellation Team Pieces: 147th Mobile Suit Squadron, Steel Wolf – Ship: Nazca-class, _Steel Fang_

Constellation Team Scorpio: 121st Mobile Suit Squadron, Iron Throne – Ship: Laurasia-class, _Imperial Lord_

Constellation Team Gemini: 17th Mobile Suit Squadron, Twin Star – Ship: Nazca-class,

Constellation Team Virgo: 31st Mobile Suit Squadron, Team Goddess – Ship: Laurasia-class, _Astarte. _Note: Team Goddess is an all-female team; their CO, however, is male.

Constellation Team Capricorn: 9th Mobile Suit Squadron, Vigilant Gaze – Ship: Laurasia-class, _Cyclops._

Constellation Team Taurus: 10th Mobile Suit Squadron, Divine Wind; Bloodhawk Elite unit – Ship: Nazca-class, _Retribution._

Constellation Team Sagittarius: 115th Mobile Suit Squadron, Ranger; Bloodhawk Elite unit – Ship: Laurasia-class, _Archer._

Constellation Team Aquarius: 67th Mobile Suit Squadron, Stormbringer – Ship: Nazca-class, _Tsunami_

Constellation Team Cancer: 110th Mobile Suit Squadron, Shield – Ship: Laurasia-class, _Aegis._

Constellation Team Libra: 77th Mobile Suit Squadron, Paladin – Ship: Laurasia-class, _Judgment._

Constellation Team Aries: 315th Mobile Suit Squadron, Matador – Ship: Nazca-class, _Enkidnu_


	6. Chapter 5

_**Gundam SeeD Destiny – Lion of Heaven**_

_**Original Idea and concept by Kouryuo Sabre**_

_**Re-written by Spiritblade**_

_**Disclaimer: **_I think we can skip this. We know who Gundam SeeD and GSD series belong to, and who the original writer of this story is – and it will be most discourteous if I should ever forget.

Special thanks to Kouryuo Sabre for allowing me to write this story. And, dear readers, I have a boon to ask of you. Please do leave a review or two for both me and Kouryuo Sabre (visit his profile page – it has some excellent works). It will ensure that we don't fall asleep on duty.

Oh...and a bit of shameless marketing. Please read both our other stories as well, and hand us some reviews. Keep us going. Keep us fighting.

Now, on with the story...

**X X X**

_The newcomers were clad in ornate golden plate and wearing mantles of crimson, their grim eyes taking in the devastation that had been unleashed on this city of ghosts. Once, this city, like the many hundred cities that had once spanned this world, had been a prosperous one. These men and women knew this; it showed in the ruins of a once bustling metropolis. The skeletons of thousands who could not get to the shelters, the wreckage of hundreds of vehicles...it did not take much for them to imagine the utter desperation and terror that had filled these streets as death rained from above._

_They could have saved these people, their Lord had told them. They could have undone what the False Empress did to them. But it was too late now. This entire world was, like so many others, a grim monument to the ruthlessness of the one the golden warriors and their compatriots had come to kill. How many had this monstrous traitor murdered? How many will he murder if he was allowed to remain alive? That he had escaped justice – and that he managed to evacuate elements of his treacherous army – had driven many of these golden warriors into a fury. It was unthinkable that, in all the history of the Order, that one so high in the hierarchy would eventually turn on his own for the sake of power._

_Armoured fists tightened around the hafts of Guardian Spears, the blaster cannons mounted on the lethal power-halberds lowered. Anything not wearing the colours of those assigned to the task of slaying the Traitor was an enemy that deserved death. This was not a mission where mistakes could be tolerated. It was incredible. The first strike force sent down was all but totally annihilated to the last man. Even the Divine Wolf's Herald and the Ten Planetary Incarnae had been slain – all because a group of traitors had managed to redirect their ship's main guns on the battle-zone where they fought to bring the Bloody Angel and his DRAGOON down._

_Those same traitors, the man who ordered them to descend onto the planet, had managed to get a message planet-side to the Traitor. There was a high possibility that he may have survived the blast. His DRAGOON was one of the strongest ever created; her void shields alone could take the direct hit of the ship's main guns many times over. And so, a thousand-strong army had descended to find the Bloody Angel and bring his head to their Lord who waited in the Solar System._

_They would not be denied their vengeance. Oh, how the Bloody Angel would pay for his treachery..._

_Lithe, armoured figures sped ahead of the golden warriors, clad in bodysuits and wielding crackling battle-swords that could cut open the reinforced armour of a Siege Tank. Their leader landed lightly beside the golden knights' leader, "We will scout ahead of you, brother. If the Traitor is still alive, you'll know..."_

"_Are you crazy? This is the Bloody Angel we're dealing with here..." the golden knight commander spoke, "Withdraw your Claymores, Ansera. Wait until the rest of our brothers and sisters are deployed. If the Traitor is still alive, you and your kin will not live past a heartbeat."_

"_That remains to be seen, brother," Ansera spoke, "But he faces close to a hundred of our Lord's finest. He may have defeated our lesser siblings with ease, but rest assured," the blue eyes of the Claymore turned gold with blood thirst, "we will not die so easily."_

_The golden knight commander remained adamant, "Don't make me..."_

"_The order came from Lord Commander Darien, brother," Ansera spoke, locking her eyes with the golden knight commander's beneath his all-enclosing helmet, "If you disagree with his orders, take it up with him. In fact, I admit that I don't want to do this..."_

_The golden knight commander swore beneath his breath and looked up at a point in the starlit sky where he knew the _Divine Justice _and its escorts hovered. He turned back to Ansera, "Tell your Claymores to slow their advance – have them ensure that that rat is not hiding in the ruins somewhere. My century and I will catch up with your unit as soon as we can."_

"_Even injured, the Bloody Angel is a formidable adversary, commander. Your caution does you credit," a new voice spoke, causing heads to turn upwards to see a woman descend from the night sky on wings as white as the snow that shrouded the city. Her armour was as ornate as the golden warriors, save that hers was silver and brass, and the cross adorning her breastplate boasted a sunburst that was superimposed by an ornate cross. A fur-edged, crimson mantle swathed her form and a massive sword held in one slender arm, crackling with flame. The woman's long, star-silver hair ruffled in the wind, and pale blue eyes looked upon the assembled Claymores and Golden Knights with the regard of one who commanded loyalty and obedience. The golden-armoured warriors and Claymores, to the last, knelt before this vision of divine justice. Mikhail, Eye of God and lieutenant to their Lord, had come in person to deal with the Bloody Angel. _

_And with her, descending on over a dozen drop-ships, was the Eye of God's personal bodyguard. Ansera and Stern could see multitudes of flashing lights emerge from the open hatches of the drop-ships; Knightly Order Assault Teams, Battle-suits and Gears emerged to join the army that gathered to hunt the Bloody Angel. Never once in all the history of the galaxy was there such a gathering of might such as this, assembled for the sole purpose of slaying a single individual whose actions have earned him the eternal enmity of those he once fought alongside._

_It made stern almost pity the Bloody Angel. _

"_I am taking command of the operation, Stern. If Lord Commander Darien Winters has misgivings about you or your subordinates taking my orders, he can take them up with me personally. Our Lord may have entrusted this mission to him, but I do not trust him to __**not**__ fail," and Mikhail turned in the direction of where the guns of the _Divine Justice_ had struck, "And all things considered, he already has."_

_Stern and Ansera exchanged looked. They knew what the Eye of God was talking about. No one wanted to face the Divine Wolf of Heaven and tell him that he had lost his oldest son to a man he once regarded as a son. Nor did anyone want to face their Lord and tell him that the Ten Planetary Incarnae that had accompanied them on the task were all dead. Mikhail turned and regarded Ansera and Stern, "Tell your subordinates to leave __**no**__ stone unturned. I want every inch of ground covered. Initiate Advance Pattern Alpha-Bravo. Am I clear?"_

"_Yes, your Highness," Stern replied. _

_Ansera did not answer, but nodded all the same._

_Stern paused suddenly as his helmet's communicator came alive, "Commander Stern? Flavius here; my squad's found something."_

_**X X X**_

_Flavius Troika stood amidst the charred ruins of the battlefield. He and his fellows looked about warily, their fingers on the trigger. There were only ten of them, the advance guard of the main force. The Bloody Angel, if he was still alive, would wipe them out within seconds. Their armour was no proof against the terrible power he possessed. Not even if they were under the aegis of an energy field would they feel secure. But, there was nothing. Not even a cockroach moved in the ruins of this dead world. Snow fell from the sky, covering the blackened ground in white. Before long, the devastation wrought by the guns of the _Divine Justice_ would be shrouded in the same white funerary blanket that covered this world._

_But, gleaming in the light of the crackling fires, the eyes of the Throne Guard were drawn to the blade that stood before them. Wet with blood, crackling with power, it marked the final resting place of a traitor to God and humanity. How ironic and fitting, Flavius thought, that he would die on the world he murdered. He lowered his Guardian Spear and strode forward, his armoured hand reaching for the blade. It was a beautiful thing. He had seen it in battle, seen the fierce power as it was unleashed. If he could master it, he could very well become a Sacred Beast. The privileges, the power, the influence...all of it would be his._

"_Don't touch it, Decurion," a voice spoke, and the Throne Guard Decurion froze to see a woman standing before the sword. Flavius snatched his hand back and sank to his knees as he saw the face of the speaker. His squad, likewise, did so. _

"_Your Majesty, I..." Flavius began._

"_Wished to claim Thunderseal for yourself, Decurion Flavius? Or maybe give it to the Lord Commander, perhaps, so that he might have a trophy in which to remember his greatest triumph by?" Mikhail cut him off, the flames on her sword swirling violently as if an expression of the Eye of God's disapproval, "The Thunderseal is not a weapon that can be easily wielded, child. It is raw, elemental power. Strong and disciplined as you **are**," Mikhail emphasised the word, "it would not have been enough. What it took the Bloody Angel to master this blade will break your body and soul beyond recovery."_

_Flavius swallowed. The Eye of God had saved him. Had she not intervened, the Throne Guard Decurion did not want to imagine what would have happened. He swore to fast and meditate for a month – after he's sat down at confessional with the Chaplain! Ill-discipline and selfish ambitions had no place in the Throne Guard!_

"_Does power demand so much of its wielder, Your Majesty?" Flavius asked after the Eye of God bade him and his squad to rise._

"_Yes, Flavius," Mikhail said, as she wrapped one armoured fist around the Thunderseal, wincing in pain as the Gear-slaying blade turned its malignant fury on her, "it does. For only the foolish would wield it without grace or wisdom. That is when it turns in the hands of its wielder and lays him low. Return to Commander Stern. Tell him to prepare to withdraw our troops after the search is done."_

"_Yes, your Majesty," Flavius replied. He and his squad left the area immediately._

_Mikhail wrapped the Thunderseal in her thick cloak, before turning her eyes on the stars above. She spoke something, the words lost in the wind, before spreading her wings and taking to the air. And in the shadows of the buildings, a pair of eyes watched her leave, and nodded. _

_**Chapter 5**_

_**Raven and Herald**_

_**The Angel and the Phoenix**_

_**Dreams and Memories 3 – Fllay reborn**_

_**Sacred Night**_

_**Chance Encounters**_

The similarities, when I first laid eyes on him, were unmistakable. The moment I heard his voice reminded me of a rumour I heard in the days after the Bloody Valentine War had ended regarding Mwu la Flaga and Rau le Creuset being mirror images of one another. I found it hard to believe at first, even when Mwu told me that it was not a lie.

"He was me...and yet, someone else..."

Mwu's face was haunted when he spoke those words. Whatever it was that he came face to face with on Colony Mendel disturbed him; it was like he, if the rumours were true, saw a part of himself that he fought desperately to suppress. A part, I think, he could not win against, if it were given a physical form. A psychologist thousands of years ago – Carl Jung – I think, called that aspect of our personalities the shadow (1). Maybe that was the reason why Mwu couldn't defeat Rau when they faced each other. Many said that the new Mobile Suit that Rau was piloting was the reason for Mwu losing, but I knew that this wasn't the case.

And Mwu did not deny it. He knew that the way he was that time, he did not have the strength to defeat his shadow. It is difficult for anyone to do so. And Rau played that card to his advantage. I think that that fight was what prompted Mwu to face his own inner demons, as his defeat had forced Kira to fight Rau le Creuset in his place. And he could do nothing but watch it happen. The only thing I can say to ease Mwu's guilt was that he was he tried to prevent it from happening – and that there was someone guiltier than him. I had put Kira in harm's way so many times without second thought, I said. He had no reason to come save me when I laid dying on the _Dominion._ And yet, he came. I told Mwu that Kira stepped in because he wanted to – and by that gesture, accepted the responsibility of ensuring his safety.

Knowing that the fault isn't entirely your own helps to start the healing process, but I cannot help but think that the reasons I gave Mwu were nothing but excuses. It does not change the fact that someone I cared for had died in my place.

But, unfortunately, everything I learnt does not help answer the question that is having me run circles. The difference between Mwu's situation and mine are fundamentally different, even as they are somewhat similar. Mwu met his shadow given form on the battlefield. The person I met left me feeling like I'm speaking to is...incomplete. Like as if something important was missing, even though I know in my heart that it is him.

Who are you, Cross Lionheart? And why do you resemble that person I love and lost during those days of fire?

- Journal entry of Natarle Badgiruel, Captain of the Earth Forces' Archangel-class ship, _Shield of Destiny_; written on April 19 in Cosmic Era 73.

**X X X**

'_It's amazing to see how far he has come,' _Ko Shiatar, the Unforgiving Raven, thought as she watched the solitary figure move across the mat, the katana in his hands flashing as swift, sharp strikes cut through the air. His focus was total. She watched as another strip of the practice dummy's synthetic leather was sent sailing without the sword's deadly edge ever touching it. The Unforgiving Raven was impressed. She could do the same, but not with the deadly finesse that the figure had demonstrated – and not from the distance the figure stood at.

Ko Shiatar studied the figure's face, seeing the similarities between him and one other, both of whom were born from the same person. The difference between the figure and his twin was that the former was well aware of his origins and sought to remove the pretender. The Unforgiving Raven had trained the young man before her to the best of her abilities and had honed them in the crucible of battle. But, despite all that, few of those battles had tested the limits of his abilities. Only the pretender to the legacy he desired his was capable of doing so – and he was not about to let anyone get in the way of that. Ko Shiatar rubbed the ornate, silver cross that hung over her exposed cleavage, the cool metal against her skin a reminder of what was asked of her. Two contradictory orders from two very, very powerful people; refusing the first order was a bad idea, but betraying those who gave the second did not sit well with the Unforgiving Raven.

'_I'll have to be careful, though. He's not stupid. I make the slightest mistake, and there'll be the devil to pay,' _the Unforgiving Raven thought as the practice dummy's arm was sent sailing. She had no wish to face her master's interrogators. The battleship that the Unforgiving Raven and her companion were on was heading towards the neutral colony of Neo-Stratos after their previous mission was concluded. It had taken a lot of trouble, but the reward had been well worth it. It had been an intelligent move on the Earth Alliance's part, to hide the machines in a consignment of construction MS bound for the PLANTs. They had arranged the shipment of the latter as a goodwill gesture to the PLANTs, but had delayed the transport ship's launch for the better part of five hours while they secured the premises and loaded the Blazing Fist and the Scythe Griffon Animus-class Gundams. And that delay had given Ko Shiatar the time she needed to arrange the heist.

As things were, the Unforgiving Raven and her companion held power enough to destroy anyone and anything that stood in their way. Their original orders had been to acquire as many of the new Animus-class Gundams as they could, or destroy them if they proved impossible to capture. The only thing that annoyed Ko Shiatar – and enraged the swordsman she was watching – was that the Blazing Fist and the Scythe Griffon lacked the final components that ensured its operation. The ship's engineers were working even now to see that it did. The Unforgiving Raven knew that they would deliver; she selected only the best to serve under her – and those who could deliver. Of all the Animus-class Gundams the EA had, only the Avenger Phoenix was fully operational. And to make matters worse, Ko had just been informed that ZAFT's Animus Gundams – six in all – would be completed within two days and Orb's three Animus Gundams would be launched into space within twenty-four hours. That would mean that it would be at least three days before the remaining ten Animus-class Gundams gathered at Neo-Stratos.

That had left the Unforgiving Raven and her companion little time to come up with a plan to take those. Ko knew that acquiring the remaining Animus-class Gundams wasn't high on her companion's list of priorities. The raven-haired woman wouldn't be surprised if he somehow allowed them to fall into the hands of their adversaries, if only to level the playing field between them. That was what, she felt, her companion wanted. Particularly when he dealt with the pretender who knew nothing of the legacy that created him. Her companion's methods reminded the Unforgiving Raven of a predator on the hunt; the moment the opportunity presented itself, he would exploit it. But unlike other predators, who knew that it was in its best interests to hunt in a group, her companion would not hesitate to cut down anybody – friend or foe – who stood in his way.

Such was the person she had forged in a hellish crucible that would have broken lesser men. And in all honesty, Ko Shiatar wasn't entirely sure which was more deadly – the sword he wielded or the Beast that lurked within him. She heard the air crack once more as the practice dummy's head was sheared off, before the rest of it was send flying. Her companion drew a deep breath and sheathed his katana, a clear indication that he had finished his training. The moment she took a step forward, however, a dagger – drawn and thrown in one swift motion – was sent in her direction. Without breaking her stride, the Unforgiving Raven caught the lethal projectile by its hilt.

"You're getting sloppy," the young man spoke, turning to face her, "Normally you would have caught it by the blade instead of catching it at the grip."

Ko Shiatar tossed the dagger up, caught it by the blade and threw the dagger back at her companion with a sly smirk on her lips, "Is that concern I hear in your voice, Griever? How unlike you..."

Like her, Griever likewise caught the dagger by the hilt and sheathed it in one swift motion, his right eye narrowing in irritation, "You're my teacher. I can't very well have you breathe your last when there are still things you can teach me. So thus, I have to ask: What is there left to learn?"

"That depends on what you're willing to learn, my young student," Ko said, the sly smirk never leaving her lips. Griever Bloodbane was lean and powerfully built, radiating inhuman strength and grace beyond those possessed by the Coordinators. Long, dark hair framed a face that was both attractive and intimidating at the same time, shrouding his left eye beneath a silky curtain that added to his fierce allure. Only his right eye was visible, and it burned with a fierce intensity whenever he spoke. And the smirk she had on her lips made her companion all the more annoyed. It thrilled Ko Shiatar to antagonise such a dangerous man.

"You know something noteworthy. Well? What is it?" Griever asked.

"We've received word from our agents that the remaining Animus-class Gundams are on their way to Neo-Stratos. Those from Orb will arrive at Neo-Stratos within forty-eight hours and ZAFT's within seventy-two. Their pilots, from what I hear, are either on Neo-Stratos or are on their way there," Ko Shiatar said, "It won't be long before all the eggs are in one basket."

"Are they fully operational?" Griever inquired as he took off the sweat-drenched t-shirt he had been wearing.

"From what I could piece together from our agents' reports, I have confirmed that all six of ZAFT's Animus-Gundams will be operational by the time we arrive. Those that Orb have will be operational within forty-eight hours of their arrival at the colony – at least, that's what our agents have estimated," the Unforgiving Raven replied, rubbing her temples.

Griever remained silent for several minutes before replying, "I'm surprised that our agents managed to infiltrate Orb, let alone acquire any information regarding their military operations and projects. Their security measures are not as lax as those of the Earth Alliance or ZAFT's. I take it that our agents there had a difficult time getting those reports to us?"

The Unforgiving Raven nodded, "You can give credit for that to Athrun Zala and his wife, Cagalli. It seems that after the Bloody Valentine War ended, he followed her back to Earth to help rebuild Orb. It took Zala six months to flush out all the moles that had been hiding in the country. And I have to admit, he's good. Getting spies into Orb is more trouble than it is worth; even the information we receive is full of holes. For all we know, Orb's Animus Gundams could very well be operational by the time they reach the colony."

"Will Athrun Zala be on the same ship that sends Orb's Animus Gundams to Neo-Stratos? If he is, he will pose a problem to our plans. He is not one to let his skills rust."

"Are you afraid of him?" Ko Shiatar asked her companion, an expression of mock surprise on her face in hopes of cracking that emotionless barrier her companion always had in place.

"I'm not. Athrun Zala's skills as a Gundam pilot are known throughout the Earth Sphere, and the Animus Gundams that had been constructed are vastly superior to the ones used during the Bloody Valentine War. As it stands, we don't know what he is capable of once he is in control of one. If he is on that ship, we can forget about our acquiring the rest of the Animus Gundams."

The Unforgiving Raven nodded, acknowledging Griever's reasoning, before telling him that the chances of him being there is low, considering that the Princess of Orb had given birth to their children just a day before. The ESNN (Earth Sphere News Network) had announced via the IPCS the news just hours before, she added, which meant that attention was, for the time being, focused on Orb's royal family.

"Children...?" Griever asked, curiosity in his voice, "I thought this was her first time giving birth?"

"It is. Cagalli Zala gave birth to twins, both girls. One, it appears, will look like the father while the other will resemble the mother when they come of age."

Griever chuckled, "I can't wait. If they are anything like their parents, they will prove to be powerful allies – or dangerous adversaries. Tell our agents to keep an eye on them."

The Unforgiving Raven raised an eyebrow. Now was a good time to see if Griever was committed to the cause they pledged themselves to. Her lips curved up in an enigmatic smile, "Their bloodline is not limited only to their parents. We both know that looks aren't everything when it comes to the birth of the next generation. There's a strong chance that they could end up like..._him_."

The tone in which Ko Shiatar addressed Griever was borderline seductive. She had expected him to react, but not in the way she had expected. Before she could even blink, the Unforgiving Raven found herself thrown against the wall and held there with a strength that surpassed even her own. Ko Shiatar was about to give voice to a protest, but the words died immediately when she felt the wall behind her vibrate under the force of the blow Griever landed inches from her skull. She could see from the corner of her eye that Griever's fist had left a deep indentation on the metal wall. The Unforgiving Raven could not help but shiver in terror at the violence in the amethyst eyes of her companion.

"_HE_ is nothing but a mistake," Griever growled, each word laced with an anger that could twist steel, "_HE_ is nothing but an abomination, a flawed being whose every breath is an affront to the laws of nature. A pretender to a legacy he has no right to. My blood, not his, runs through the veins of Orb's heirs."

"You do **NOT** have full claim to the Legacy, Griever," Ko Shiatar's voice was a whisper due to Griever almost crushing her windpipe, but steely in its conviction, "Those above us are divided as to which of you would receive it. There can be only one, Griever. Neither or you have, as far, proven yourselves worthy of claiming it."

Griever tightened his hold around the Unforgiving Raven's throat, causing the latter to choke, "The title that comes with the Legacy is not one bequeathed, Ko Shiatar. It is a throne that can be won only in battle. It is one that pretenders have no right to. It has taken both of us this long to regain our strength and acquire the skills and tools necessary for the confrontation those above us desire. And you know as well as I do that when that day comes, there will be no question as to who will inherit the Legacy."

Ko Shiatar reached up and fought to loosen the vice-like grip enough to talk, "Do you really believe that you can win, Griever? I admit that the strength you possess is beyond even mine, but on what grounds do you believe _him_," referring to Griever's nemesis, "your equal? You have dubbed yourself _his_ superior, but I have yet to see that proven."

The dark-haired woman knew the answer to her question long ago. She made it her business to know what Griever's nemesis was capable of.

"You will not have to wait long, Shiatar. Though he is a pretender, he lacks for nothing save two things – conviction and the knowledge of the project's origins," Griever replied, loosening his grip somewhat and allowing air to flow into the Unforgiving Raven's grateful lungs. The dizziness that was threatening to overcome the female mercenary's iron will abated almost instantaneously.

"So, those are the only two things that have you believe that you are his superior? I doubt so. There must be more than that before you would declare yourself so," Ko replied. Griever stepped back, releasing her as he did so, and looked away – but not before the female mercenary saw understanding in those cold, amethyst orbs. A look that told the shrewd mercenary that her companion could relate to his most hated rival.

"I've watched him and all the battles he has fought in. He has done exactly what I would have in each of them –had I been as weak as him," Griever spoke as he walked over to a duffle bag resting against the far wall and pulling a new shirt out of its confines.

The Unforgiving Raven stared at her companion. He had managed to watch his nemesis without the latter sensing him? It was an impressive feat, considering that the skills required to do so took years of training and field experience – and Griever mastered those same techniques in less than two years. The rumours surrounding the project were true after all. Ko Shiatar rubbed her sore neck and coughed. Her hypothesis that the scions of that project possessing superhuman strength and speed had just been proven in that display. Had he applied any more pressure, Griever would have broken her neck. But those same hands, she knew, could be gentle as well. As she watched him remove his shirt, Ko Shiatar was reminded just how much so. There were nights when the loneliness crushed the female mercenary under its unforgiving weight. Nights she wanted more than anything to feel human warmth. She lowered her head, allowing her dark bangs to cover the redness on her face. Her superiors had said nothing about using him in the way she had. She could almost picture their smirks should they find out – if they already hadn't, they would soon enough! In a way, she was no better than Tiffa Ayanami. Why couldn't she follow the advice she had given the younger girl and not get involved?

Once Griever finished putting on his shirt, the Unforgiving Raven forced herself to return to the present.

"In a way," the dark-haired young man spoke, "this battle will make the winner far stronger than before and help realize the potential that is so deeply hidden. I know this. And soon, so shall _he._"

"Just one battle...?" and Ko froze as she saw something what was, in her own mind, an omen. The only times she ever saw Griever smile was when he stood amidst an inferno of his own making.

"My apologies...I should have put that in another way. The _war_ will make the winner stronger than ever," Griever reiterated, "There can, as you say, be only one."

"You," Ko replied when she finally found her voice, "make it sound that as if only the two of you are the ones going to war. Are you ready to go to war with the entire Earth Sphere? Because that is what is going to happen the minute the both of you cross swords."

Griever swung the duffle bag over his shoulder, laughing quietly. The dark-haired mercenary strode towards the pressure door, pausing only to answer the Unforgiving Raven, "When our war is done, my lovely Raven, there will be _no one_ in the Earth Sphere who can stop us. _He_ is the only real threat to us, to our future. If things do not change, then it won't be long before every human – both Naturals and Coordinators – in the Solar System dies. _They_ know this. _We_ know this. But _he_ doesn't – and that is what makes him such a threat."

"And you'll be the one to eliminate him in order to bring about the future _they_ told you about, won't you, Griever?"

Griever raised his sheathed katana to eye level, the light gleaming off its dark crimson and gold-chased _saya_ (transl.: scabbard). For the briefest moment, the Unforgiving Raven saw that her companion's amethyst orbs were as red as blood, as monstrous as the Beast that Griever chained and had submit to his iron will. His voice, when he spoke, was even, but icy in its promise, "Our contract with the Ockzam's Razor faction is temporary; they are nothing if not generous, and we shall deliver the results they ask for. But when I face my twin in battle, it will be one where he can face me without fear of anyone stabbing him in the back. He will die by this blade, and he will die for a tomorrow that he will never see. It is the only honour he deserves – nothing more, nothing less."

With that, Griever left the training room, leaving Ko Shiatar alone with her thoughts. The Unforgiving Raven turned and looked out the reinforced armour-glass window. She could not question her companion's determination and conviction. She never had any reason to, but the depth of both was staggering. One of her superior's aides had described Griever as an untameable force of nature. The only reason he was even on their side in the first place was a reason that eluded even them. But Ko – and those above her superiors – had a feeling as to what that reason was. Despite what Griever was promised and what was at stake, it was obvious to the Unforgiving Raven that there was more than what her companion let on.

'_I know I was ordered to watch out for these two troublesome cubs until they met in person. But doing so without arousing suspicion is getting harder every day, especially now that I know how far Griever is willing to go. Those two will cross swords...and only one of them is going to walk away,' _Ko Shiatar turned her gaze to the wrecked practice dummy, _'Professor Hibiki...your request to have me protect these two young lions so as to save your son is far more difficult than I originally thought it would be. I knew I should have asked for more when I agreed to this...' _the making the Unforgiving Raven chuckle. The female mercenary turned her head back and gazed out into the star ocean, her sharp eyes making out the distant shape of the neutral colony of Neo-Stratos. Prior to accompanying Griever, the Unforgiving Raven had viewed colonies as a place where she could find a decent bed and a bar in which to unwind after her assignments. But, this one colony was where the rusted wheels of history would begin to move once more.

Ko Shiatar turned and strode out of the training room, floating down the corridors towards the hangar where her newly-acquired Mobile Suit was. The female mercenary wished that she could have voiced aloud the question the day when Professor Hikibi asked her to watch over Griever and his twin, long before she was part of a circle whose origins dated back centuries into antiquity. If she had to compare between the Professor's way of showing his love and the way the Circle did, Ko Shiatar would say that the latter cared more for Griever than the former.

The Unforgiving Raven entered the cavernous hangar bay, and gazed up at the enormous form of her Mobile Suit. It was ironic how the slumbering machine god before her was made in the image of the same Mobile Suit that had delivered the entire Earth Sphere from extinction's burning caress (2). The engineering crew had left only moments ago, she surmised, in order to get some rest before resuming work. That was fine by her. The female mercenary wanted to be alone, anyway. She let out a long breath.

'_Did you ever consider the consequences of your request, Professor Hibiki? I doubt it. Your son died defending the entire Earth Sphere, presenting it with bloodied hands to those he could entrust its future to. And now...you ask me to do this. You cast him back into Hell, and for what?' _Ko Shiatar closed her eyes, _'You are no father of his, Professor. And when your son returns, he will not call you father.'_

Ko Shiatar knew that tomorrow would truly be the beginning of the end for many things. The only thing the female mercenary could do in the face of such monumental events was to help as many survive what was about to happen. A part of her hoped that her companion would survive it, but a treacherous voice at the back of her mind told her that the likelihood of that happening was low. Whether she liked it or not, the Unforgiving Raven had created two deadly rivals in a deadly game in which the victor would resurrect a legendary saviour. A saviour, she knew, whose hands would be stained crimson and whose soul would be weighed down by regret. And there was no force in Creation that could stop the inevitable confrontation.

**X X X**

The day after the _Shield of Destiny_ had docked at Neo-Stratos's space-port was the day that Fllay was finally given the chance to speak to someone with whom she shared a past. She hoped that doing so would make life more bearable. It was evening in Neo-Stratos, and its inhabitants were out in bars, restaurants, malls and nightclubs after a hard day's work. And with the weekend approaching, the streets were more packed than usual. As a result, getting to her destination was going to take longer than usual. But that was fine by the pilot of the Avenger Phoenix. It would allow her the time to gather her thoughts and steel her resolve before she came face-to-face with the person she intended to meet.

Thirteen months had passed since the last time they met – and that meeting had been in a situation that was less than agreeable. That meeting was not the first time the only daughter of one of Earth's highest-ranking government officials and one of PLANT's had taken place. If there was one thing that life had taught the crimson-haired girl, it was that life enjoyed throwing curve balls at its hapless players when they least expected them. The first time it had had been when the _Archangel_ had swept in to save a patrol fleet commandeered by her father, who had come to bring her home. The same ZAFT team that had doggedly pursued the _Archangel_ had intercepted the small fleet, determined to see to it that their quarry did not receive the aid of its fellows. Even though Commander Murrue had launched the Zero and the Strike to support the beleaguered patrol fleet, Fllay knew that the chances of her seeing her father survive the engagement shrunk if she did not find a way to stop the battle. And the only way she could do it was with her 'help'. Utter desperation had left her with few options and even less time in which to act. It was, in hindsight, one of the worst decisions she had made – one out of many. Her father was doomed, she knew, the moment the ZAFT team attacked the small fleet. Four Gundams – against three destroyers; the deck was stacked against her father. Nothing short of a miracle could have saved him.

Fllay knew that she could have chosen a better way to deal with her father's death. But the knowledge that the Coordinators had taken away the only family she had left drove her to seek vengeance. It was a vendetta she knew she could not carry out and, thus, sought out the perfect tool in which to do so. He would pay in blood, tears and pain for failing to protect her father. The crimson-haired pilot closed her eyes, feeling her heart clench, as her memories accused her of digging the grave that she should have occupied.

And he did not care. Kira chose not to care, even if he knew of her plans. He chose to protect her, to ensure that the fate that she would not meet the same fate as her father. And somewhere along the way, the plans she made to have the Coordinator race pay for her father's death started to fall apart. Anger and resentment faded as the days went by, as events forced a spoilt, foolish girl to understand just how much the young man had loved her –and how much she would give, when she had stood beside Commander Badgiruel on the _Dominion_'s observation deck, to see him again. Fllay ran a hand through her long, crimson locks. She had seen every expression grace Kira's face. She had seen him angry. She had seen him cry. She had seen him deep in thought. She had seen him exhausted. She had seen him shy and embarrassed. And she had seen him smile; that happy, carefree smile that had melted the hearts of the girls he met with its honesty and warmth. And to think that, back when they were schoolmates in Heliopolis University, several of the younger female lecturers (and some of the older ones, as well) had made plans to date him.

She would have given much to go back to those sunlit days, when war was the last thing on both their minds. But then, she would be the same Fllay who had known neither hardship nor sorrow. She would still be the proud, spoilt rich girl who cared only for herself first and others second. Had the Fllay of the past and the Fllay of the present stood before each other, the former would never have been able to recognize herself in the latter. A tap on her shoulder broke the red-haired pilot out of her thoughts.

"We're here, ma'am," the cab-driver said. Fllay turned her head. Indeed, they had reached their destination – the six-star Valley of the Stars hotel.

"Sorry. How much is the fare?" Fllay asked as she reached into the pocket of her Earth Army uniform.

"23 Earth Dollars, ma'am," the driver said, holding up a portable computer pad where she could swipe her credit-card to terminate the transaction. Fllay pulled out her Earth Forces ID card, which doubled as a credit/debit card, and slid it along the pad's card slot before taking the receipt it printed out.

"Things sure are getting expensive lately. I can remember when a taxi ride was barely 20 credits," Fllay said.

"You can say that again. The only reason I can come up to explain the price hikes is due to the event that Neo-Stratos is hosting," the cab driver nodded to the banners that hung from buildings and lamp-posts, before exiting his cab and opening the door to let Fllay out, "My bosses seem to think they can make some extra cash because of all the people that will be coming here to see Lacus Clyne perform. I'm...starting to think that they have forgotten why this celebration is being held."

"It's natural for people to want to forget the past if all it does is bring back bitter memories and heartache," Fllay replied, studying the impressive edifice of the 150-storey six-star hotel before her, "But, there are those that never forget..."

"It's like the old saying, miss – 'Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it'. I can only hope that organizations like the Clyne Faction can make sure that those who do forget those lessons are kept from positions of power," the cab-driver said as he studied the enormous building before him. Fllay knew that they could not get any further without arousing the attention of the security teams that were on duty. She could make out the distinct shapes of armoured personnel carriers and several well-concealed light assault vehicles in the shadows of nearby buildings. Overkill, but when one considered the number of important delegates staying within the Valley of the Stars, it was understandable.

"There will always be a group like the Clyne Faction advocating peace and unification. The only problem with that is that there will be those who refuse to bury the hatchet and who will accuse those who want an end to hostilities as traitors and cowards," Fllay said as she put on her peaked cap, "I read somewhere that the dove was slain by the hawk because the former did not agree with the views of the latter."

"That's a harsh way to put it but I cannot disagree with your logic, miss," the cab-driver looked at Fllay, "Besides, there is something you forgot."

"What's that...?"

"The dove is guarded by those who would see the hawk denied its victory," the cab-driver said as he walked back to the other side of his vehicle, "After all, though the innocents are the ones who bear the agony of the mistakes made by the ignorant few, it is from among them that those same peace-makers come. They want, above all else, to make sure that future generations will not suffer as they have. When you meet people like these, tell them they will not stand alone. And tell them, regardless of ideology and race, they are in the right."

Fllay was about to speak when the cab-driver cut her off, "I used to be in ZAFT up until Zala took over. That's when everything changed. Ex-PLANT Chairman Siegel Clyne wanted to defend our homeland; he wanted the Earth Alliance to treat us as a sovereign, independent entity with rights enjoyed by every human in the Solar System. He did not want war, despite the massacre that took place at Junius-7."

"When did you quit?" Fllay asked.

The man smiled, but it was a bitter one that Fllay had seen countless times on those who lived through their worst nightmare, "After the Alaska fiasco. I did not quit. I deserted. I had had enough of the garbage the extremists were spreading. What we were doing, what Zala was doing, went against everything I stood for. This was not about defending the Homeland. This was about making the same mistakes the Earth Alliance made – and taking it a step further. I watched GENESIS fire," the cab-driver's voice shook, "I saw Armageddon barely averted by the iron will of those who wanted something more precious than victory. I joined ZAFT to defend my Homeland, miss. I love it still, despite my desertion and the fact I have a black mark to my name."

Fllay raised an eyebrow, amusement evident in her grey eyes.

"All I can do now is to serve the people I had cast aside when I deserted. But I won't do it as a soldier. I'll do it as a cab-driver. And you know, you meet more interesting characters willing to have a chat with you than a stony faced officer," Fllay laughed aloud at hearing that, "Enjoy your evening, miss."

With that, the cab driver got back into his vehicle and drove off, leaving Fllay to ponder his words. The dove is guarded by those who would deny the hawk its victory, the red-haired pilot mouthed silently. She remembered one of those defenders, remembered him trying to take away the pain and reminding her that there was someone who wanted to see her smile again. Though that person was long gone, she knew that he would still want her to smile even then. She turned her eyes back on the Valley of the Stars hotel and let out a long breath. Fllay hoped that by doing this, she could finally make peace with her past before leaving it behind forever. Giving her uniform a brief brush to smooth any wrinkles, Fllay walked towards the hotel, earning the wary but appreciative looks from the security troopers on duty. She was stopped three times before she finally entered the hotel's lobby.

The red-haired Earth Army officer ground to a halt the moment she did so, her eyebrows almost shooting up to her hairline. Fllay could tell from the outside that the Valley of the Stars hotel lobby would easily span four football fields, but upon entry, it was closer to ten. There was enough space to hold at least a full Strike Dagger squadron and still have plenty of room for at least three hundred people to move about freely. The architecture was exquisitely designed with archways that led up to a central dome that allowed a free, unobstructed view of the stars when night fell upon Neo-Stratos. The Valley of the Stars was, without question, a high-class hotel that only the very wealthy could afford to stay in. It gave Fllay a rough guess as to the resources the young leader of the Clyne faction had at her disposal.

Fllay strode towards the front desk and asked the receptionist on which floor the songstress of PLANT was residing.

"Do you have an appointment with her, Miss Angel?" the dark-haired receptionist asked, glancing briefly at the name-tag on her uniform.

Fllay nodded, "Yes, at seven-thirty."

"Hold on a moment. Let me check with Miss Clyne directly," the receptionist said as she picked up a phone and opened a connection to the suede where the songstress had taken up residence. Fllay took the time to further study her surroundings while waiting. Security outside was tight compared to the easy atmosphere within the hotel itself, but Fllay was not fooled. The red-haired officer could tell that a good number of the people standing around talking about the latest events or the hotel employees that were sorting out the luggage were actually plain-clothes security agents. Even the receptionist she spoke to was one; there was no hiding the steely core beneath the pleasant exterior. She raised an eyebrow when she saw several familiar faces – faces she saw on fashion magazines and television – enter the hotel lobby. She recognized one of them almost immediately: Jonathan Cruise, a well-known actor and singer. The rugged looking man was the idol of every High School girl throughout the Earth Sphere and whom the tabloids believed to be the boyfriend of Lacus Clyne. Next to him was the Japanese pop-star idol, Mizuho Koyomi, as well as the actress, Minase Yuki. Behind him was the socialite Janet Starr, who was in the company of Michael Wayne, a singer who came from the border-colony of Troy. The event that PLANT Neo-Stratos was hosting had not only included governmental dignitaries from the entire Earth Sphere, but celebrities as well.

"Miss Angel?" Fllay turned back to face the receptionist, "You are expected. Miss Lacus is on the top floor. Oh, so that you do know, the entire level has been reserved for Miss Lacus and her staff. They, from what my boss told me, needed a place where Miss Lacus could practice in peace without being mobbed by fans."

Fllay let out a small smile at that. That Lacus had reserved the **entire** top level of the hotel for her staff and herself was typical of a celebrity. It faded when a second reason made itself known. The Memorial Ceremony was to honour those who had died during the Bloody Valentine War – but Lacus honoured in song and action the one person who had made peace possible. The receptionist pointed her in the direction of an express elevator that would take her directly to the penthouse that Lacus Clyne resided in, before handing her a 'Visitor's Pass' that would allow her access to it.

The red-haired pilot of the Avenger Phoenix strode towards the lift to a promised meeting – one that she knew would bring back old ghosts. Tapping the pass that the receptionist gave her on the access panel, the lift's scroll-worked doors parted. The doors closed the moment she stepped into it and started to ascend. Knowing that it would be a while before she reached the 150th story, Fllay took the time to gather her thoughts on what she would say to the lovely songstress.

**X X X X X X**

_**October, Cosmic Era 74**_, _**Earth Alliance patrol Grigori-18 (3), 13 months prior...**_

"Captain, we're receiving a distress signal on the civilian frequencies. Signal is from a cruise-liner ship under attack from...Ockzam's Razor Mobile Suits," the communications officer of the newly-constructed Behemoth-class (4) destroyer variant, _Percival, _said as he looked at his console screen. The captain of the _Percival_, a man in his late forties, pinched the bridge of his nose as if to ward off an impending headache. And the terrorists of the Ockzam's Razor were just as bad a headache as the extremists of the Genesis's Light. As of late, both factions had stepped up their attacks on soft targets, antagonizing the governments of the Earth Sphere further.

"Sensors, what is the name of the ship under attack?" the captain. He knew that he was in no position to help the beleaguered ships. He had been assigned the task of babysitting the newest batch of trainee pilots. He had Mobile Armour and Mobile Suits, but none of them were armed with live rounds. Even the power level of beam sabres of the latter had been modified to a level that would not cut through armour. And even if they had live rounds and fully-powered beam sabres, the trainee pilots would be cut to pieces within minutes. All of them save one, and this one was the pride of the Academy she had come from.

"One minute, sir. Cross-referencing ship registration...it's...it's the _Nightingale's Star_," the voice of the sensor officer was full of stunned disbelief at the audacity of the terrorists to attack the personal ship of Lacus Clyne herself, "Sensors indicate that the _Nightingale's Star_'s escorts, the _White Shield_ and the _Gatekeeper_, are both on the verge on being destroyed. The _Star_ has sustained moderate damage to her engines, but if the Razor MS get in one good hit, they'll hit the ship's fusion reactor."

"Who is on that ship, anyway?" the weapons officer shouted from below.

"Who in bloody hell do you think is on that ship? President Lincoln? It's Lacus Clyne, you nut. Weren't you told that she was passing by this area before we left the moon base?" the communications officer shouted back before turning his attention back to the captain, "What should we do sir...?"

"What can we do? Launch the MA and MS in our hangars, Robert? And who would pilot them? Our trainees...? We would be sending lambs to the slaughter. If we get involved, **everyone** on this ship is dead. Honestly, I'm not surprised they would go after someone as famous as her. It would be a real feather in their cap if they kill her; the extremist factions among the Coordinators would most likely celebrate her death – or use it to incite a Second Bloody Valentine."

"But to go after her so openly..." the Communications officer said, "Someone wants to make sure she does not make it to her destination."

"And they may very bloody well succeed. Link up to any and all EA or ZAFT ships in the area – let them handle..." the captain as cut off when a smaller screen on his console flashed open to reveal an extremely irate, scarlet-haired girl.

"Captain," the girl began, "I heard we've received a distress call. Why haven't we been order to launch?"

"Listen, lieutenant, I am not going to risk the lives of everyone on board this ship by doing so. The distress signal comes from ships under attack by Ockzam's Razor MS. You and your fellow trainees are not ready for the real deal yet," the captain said, hearing the ruckus caused by the other trainee pilots in the background, demanding the reason as to why they have not been given the permission to launch.

"Maybe...but sitting here and doing nothing is far worse. You and I know that there is still a chance for us to make a difference when it counts. It's the reason we chose to become who we are. Keeping us here is going against the one thing we were made for – to defend the innocent against any aggressor. And regardless of whether they are Coordinators or Naturals, we have a responsibility to those people."

The captain slammed his fist on his command chair's armrest, "Do not lecture me on responsibility, Lieutenant Allster. I know full well what I am supposed to do but I cannot, in good conscience, send untrained soldiers off to die in a battle where they have little to no chance defending themselves against trained killers."

"Sitting her and doing nothing is far worse than dying on a battlefield. None of us want to die, captain, but having innocents die in our place is something none of us want to live with. Nothing we do in the future will ever erase that sin," the red-haired lieutenant said before she terminated the connection. The captain bit back a curse, knowing what was about to happen next. If there was one thing the captain had learnt over the course of his life, it was that someone whose convictions were as ironclad as the young lieutenant would not be dissuaded. He suspected that Lieutenant Angel Allster had undergone a traumatic experience in the past, possibly during the Bloody Valentine War. The only clues that he could uncover was that, prior to her name being changed, she was the daughter of the late Undersecretary of the Earth Alliance, George Allster, and that she had been involved with another soldier during the war – and that person never came back. The captain shook his head. Whatever it was that changed the spoilt, rich girl of a bureaucrat into a force of nature was no business of his. Everyone who lived through the Bloody Valentine War had lost friends, lovers and family. Those who were strong enough to look past their hatred saw a human face looking back at them, crying over the same things they themselves had lost.

They swore on the lives of those who perished in an insane war that another one shall not take place. The voice of his First Officer broke him out of his train of thought, "Captain, Launch Bay reports that Lieutenant Allster and several of the trainee pilots have gotten into their MS and MA. They're preparing to take off. The Chief Engineer wants to know if they should try to stop them."

The captain pinched the bridge of his nose for the second time in 15 minutes, and let out a heavy sigh. He knew what he said next was going to land him in hot water with his superiors, "Tell the Chief Engineer to prep the suits for actual combat and to equip them with whatever Lieutenant Allster requests. I'm pretty sure she's not going into a fight like this without a plan. Weapons, warm up our guns. Increase engine output by 30 percent. I think it's time we got our hands dirty."

The captain's subordinates exchanged looks of disbelief, but each nodded, and set about their tasks, calling upon the engine room crew to take combat stations and increase the engine output by 30 percent. The _Percival _surged towards the fighting, its laser batteries emerging from its armoured compartments, locking onto the distant, flitting shapes of the Ockzam's Razor's MS. The _Percival_ carried only a complement of 8 newly-upgraded GAT-01 Strike Daggers and 7 Moebius-class Zero Sykes MAs, the latter of which had been derived from the one piloted by the infamous Hawk of Endymion who now stood second in the hierarchy of the SENTINEL peacekeepers. A communication screen from the Hangar Bay opened up, as the Chief Engineer there reported that all the MS and MA were ready to be deployed.

The captain nodded before giving the order to open the _Percival_'s launch bays. The prow of the Behemoth battle-cruiser parted and its linear catapult rails extended. Within seconds, each and every one of the _Percival_'s MS and MA shot out into space and towards the embattled ships. The captain spoke a prayer that they would all return. But, as it turned out, the captain's worries were unfounded. By the time the _Percival_ had gotten into range to use its laser batteries, the battle was all but finished. The plan that the captain knew that Lieutenant Allster had in mind had been executed the moment the MS and MA contingent had been launched. When he latter asked the red-haired pilot about how she managed to win against such long odds, she had merely applied a lesson she had learnt the hard way.

The young lieutenant's reply had left the older man wrong-footed – almost as much as when he realized that the rookies had all survived the skirmish. When he questioned the other pilots, the captain of the _Percival_ was able to uncover what had taken place in those 15 minutes before his ship finally reached the battleground. The plan that the red-haired lieutenant had executed had been a stroke of genius. As he had confirmed with the sensor officer, there had been 15 enemy Strike Daggers of an older variant used during the latter days of the Bloody Valentine War. These undoubtedly belonged to those deserters who had left the Earth Alliance when the cease-fire between Earth and PLANT came into effect.

Lieutenant Allster had known they were going up against more experienced pilots. Following textbook manoeuvres and tactics would kill her entire team. She had instructed the pilots of the MA detachment to do a fly-by at full burn and utilise the paint rounds instead of their live rounds to blind as many of the enemy Suits as they could. They had one chance; if they so much as slowed or remained in one place for too long, the Razor's pilots would take them down. Then, split up to their assigned vectors and charge into the battlefield again, guns blazing. Never mind if they missed, but keep the enemy unable to respond. Keep them clustered together, making them a larger target that would decrease the chance of missing.

The MS detachments would attack several seconds after the MA detachments finished their attack run. Divided into two teams and attacking from different angles, they would throw the enemy into further confusion. The fact that several of the suits had their main cameras blinded gave the rookie pilots – and the guns of the _Nightingale Star_'s escorts – the chance that they needed to eliminate the enemy. The Mobile Armour squadrons harried any enemy Suits which attempted to get a lock on their compatriots, their powerful linear guns throwing off their aim and forcing the Razor pilots to get out of the way or risk destruction. This distraction proved to be fatal; all but one of the enemy MS fell to the beam sabres of their enemies. The captain had been surprised; the lieutenant had taken into account that the shooting skills of her team left much to be desired and utilised a tactic that would bring them within reach of a killing blow.

It had been risky, with little room for error, but the captain of the _Percival_ had been impressed by the way the trainee pilots and their (hot-headed) leader had performed. The fact that the trainees had suffered **no** casualties had been a miracle in itself. All but one of the enemy Suits, however, had been destroyed – and the last survivor, determined to the last to fulfil his mission, shot towards the bridge of the _Nightingale's Star_ in a suicide run. The lieutenant had seen this and had reacted quickly. Using two Strikes and a slingshot manoeuvre, she managed to knock the enemy MS far from the _Nightingale Star_. The impact must have been felt by both their ancestors, the captain thought.

But, seconds later, the enemy MS detonated, birthing a new star in the sky.

(O)

The next thing Fllay remembered after that blinding flash of light was that she was in the sick bay of the _Nightingale's Star_. What happened next was something she did not divulge to anyone else. Even though the captain of the _Percival_ knew the details of the battle, he did not press her for the details of what happened after that. He could tell that it was personal. She had felt a pang of disappointment when she came to, shaking a mental fist at the chuckling Reaper for not staying true to form. When her vision finally cleared, the crimson-haired pilot realized that she was not alone. Sitting by Fllay's bed was a young woman with pink hair and azure eyes – a woman who, despite looking older, she had met before. The expression on her lovely face was solemn as she regarded the bed's occupant.

Fllay knew her. And she knew the reason why those azure eyes regarded her with a mixture of anger, sorrow, understanding and a small measure of hate.

"Lacus Clyne, is it? It's been a while," Fllay spoke.

The pink-haired songstress nodded.

"May I ask why I'm here and not back on the _Percival_? I thought having a military officer on board a civilian ship was unacceptable in these days, considering the new rules regarding the Enlistment Act..." Fllay said as she struggled to sit upright, trying to fight back the wave of dizziness that threatened to send her back into unconsciousness.

"There are a lot of things happening that shouldn't be happening, Miss Allster," Lacus replied in a level tone.

"If you are talking about the attack by the extremists just now, then I can only say that there are those who will try to stop it before it does happen," Fllay replied, "Now tell me why am I on your ship instead of mine."

"The main reason why you're here is because your ship's infirmary is badly stretched dealing with the aftermath of the clash between the _Percival_ and the light-carriers that brought the Razors to this region of space. They are also tending to the wounded crew members from my ship's escorts. You've only suffered a mild concussion and some bruising; nothing the _Nightingale Star_'s infirmary cannot handle. And it will allow us the privacy we need to talk," Lacus met Fllay's grey eyes, "The last time we met…I've had an impression of you that was otherwise less than flattering, Miss Allster. You were not the kind of person who would deliberately put herself in harm's way to save others."

"A lot of things have changed since then…and I only hoped that I have changed for the better," Fllay replied, meeting Lacus's penetrating glare, "But, from the look on your face, I doubt that that would change how you feel about me."

"Should it? What I know about you, I knew from Cagalli and Athrun – you've met them, I believe – and your friends. I have spoken to them, so as to put a face and a past to the woman that my Kira had loved," Fllay flinched at Lacus's address of Kira being hers, "I am aware of the past you shared with Kira, back when he was your schoolmate in Heliopolis Technological University till the day he was brought to me, battered and broken. I am also aware of what you have done in order to carry out your vendetta against my people for the death of your father.

"You used him, Miss Allster. You knew he never wanted to fight, but it astounded you how good he was at it. Commander Murrue and the others wanted him out of the war, but you and Commander Natarle wanted him to remain, selling his sanity and life in exchange for sated vengeance and victory. You gave him hope and purpose in a beautifully-wrapped lie, so that he would bear the burden you forced on him all the way to his grave willingly. At least Commander Badgiruel was honest; she would not lie to him as to what Kira would have to pay should he become the sword of Earth. Her pride will not allow her to lie.

"And that leads me to my wondering why you're wearing a military uniform. Everything I've heard about you tells me that you're more of a politician than a soldier."

Fllay wanted to tell the songstress how much she regretted her actions, but it was too late to right the wrongs that were already written in stone. She turned away, unable to answer.

"Why?" Lacus's voice was shaking, "Why did you do that to him? Were you unaware of the consequences of your actions? No, you were aware – but you were past caring. You only cared for your own agenda."

Her own voice, whispering a vengeful vow, made during an insane war, returned to haunt her.

'_Kira, you are going to fight and fight until you die. That is the only way you will ever earn my forgiveness for failing to save my father.' _"There is nothing that I can say or do will right the wrongs I have committed. I had a chance to tell him I'm sorry...and I didn't take it. The only thing I can do now is walk the same path he had as penance. He loved me," Fllay met Lacus's blue eyes briefly before turning away, "But you are right in the assumption that I did not deserve it."

Lacus saw the crimson-haired pilot's hands tighten on the bed-sheets, and the trail of tears borne from a wound that would never heal. The songstress stood up and leaned forward, placing a hand under Fllay's chin so as to turn the face of the latter to face her. Fllay saw that the expression of the former was one of scrutiny, as if searching for something that only she could find.

"What? What are you looking for?" Fllay asked as the songstress withdrew.

"I will be honest with you, Miss Allster, and you won't like what you hear. If there is one thing we can agree on that deals with Kira, it's what you've just said," Lacus narrowed her eyes, the fury and pain that she had kept under a tight leash ever since the War's end spilling into her voice, "You are **not** worthy of Kira's love. If he was still alive today, I would have seen to it that you stayed far away from him. The war he was thrust into cost him dearly; you knew what he was like back when the both of you were schoolmates. You know – as I do – that no one emerges from the crucible of so insane a conflict unchanged.

"And that was the reason why I brought you onto my ship when I found out that you were the one who saved my life. You have changed...but not when it could have made a difference. I agree with Cagalli's assessment of you, Miss Allster. You had a hand in digging his grave. You live today...because someone has taken your place in Hell."

Fllay flinched, the words Lacus spoke striking her like a physical blow. The red-haired girl opened her mouth, wanting to ask the songstress why she herself had not prevented Kira from returning to war. But she knew the reasons why almost immediately. Had Kira not come on that fateful day when the Earth Alliance abandoned its Alaskan Headquarters and its garrison to its enemies, everyone Fllay knew would be dead. And Lacus knew as well as she did that stopping Kira when he had made up his mind was pointless – especially when his friends were in the equation. He would not abandon them. And that was why the songstress had betrayed her country by giving Kira one of its most potent weapons.

"But it does not change the fact that you meant a lot to him," Lacus said from the doorway, breaking Fllay out of her thoughts, "The reasons why he chose to protect were immaterial, as was the cost of doing so. You," a bitter smile curved Lacus's lips, "were his angel. You lit the path he walked on, a beacon in the darkness of an insane war. He loved you even though you were beyond his reach, uncaring that the fire which drew him to you would be his end."

Lacus paused briefly, before speaking, "And I envy you, Miss Allster. I wanted him by my side...but it was you he wanted to return to."

And then, the songstress left, the door to the infirmary hissing shut, leaving Fllay to ponder the words that Lacus had spoken. And three words from the conversation took centre stage in her mind, with the clarity of a revelation.

Angel.

Beacon.

Fire.

'_Angel of Fire...'_

**X X X X X X**

_**The present...**_

'_And so I become the Fiery Angel. I will protect the innocent and smite the wicked,' _Fllay thought as the elevator's doors opened to the level the songstress of PLANT resided. She remembered the aftermath of her suicidal rescue attempt that had saved the _Nightingale Star_. Fllay soon found herself as the future pilot of one of the Earth Alliance's six Animus-class Gundams – and the responsibilities that came with it. The red-haired pilot rubbed her temples. Her workload (and responsibilities) was equivalent to that of a senior officer – and here she was, wearing the stripes of a junior officer. But, when once considered the security level associated with the Animus Project, it wasn't surprising.

But, what surprised Fllay was that she had been told that there had been several pilots who had been selected to pilot the Avenger Phoenix. These pilots had had years of training and combat experience to their names. A look through their profiles had convinced Fllay that they **were** more suitable candidates, leading her to believe that someone high in the Earth Alliance hierarchy had an eye on her – and was willing to pull the strings necessary to securing her position as the Phoenix's future pilot.

It was not too long after she flew the newly-built Avenger Phoenix out on their test runs in the primary Earth Forces weapons testing ground in Nevada, America, that she heard people comparing her skills to that of the mysterious pilot of the Strike Gundam (5). However, that comparison came with the rumour that mentioned that she was involved with that same pilot who was, to top it off, a Coordinator. The one who had started the rumour had also found out that she was intimately involved with him and that she had betrayed her people and her country. Basing their deductions on the rumours they had heard, Fllay's colleagues in the Nevada Base concluded that she had been by that Coordinator when he rode out and fought against his own kind.

It was a potent half-truth, made all the more so that there were many respectable people who, directly or indirectly, extended its lifespan. The only thing Fllay could do was hope that the rumours surrounding her would die out eventually...or if something of import took place that would shift the attentions of the curious and the vindictive away from her. In any case, it was pointless worrying about it. Overreacting would simply convince people that she had something to hide.

Fllay stopped before the doors leading to the suite that Lacus was staying in. But this part of her past would not die unless she let it live one last time. She raised a hand to the doorbell, hesitating briefly as she remembered the look of _near _loathing in the azure eyes of the songstress when they last met over a year ago. Would they be able to talk cordially without coming to blows, verbal or otherwise? But, she had to. Natarle was right when she said that the wounds that had been gouged into her heart still bled and that this meeting was the only way she could lance them. She pushed the doorbell. The small-screen above the digital pad and the card slot came to life, revealing a face that did not belong to the Coordinator songstress.

"You are...?" a dark-haired woman asked.

"Lieutenant Angel Allster, Earth Forces. I have an appointment with Miss Lacus at 1930. She is expecting me," Fllay said. The woman studied her, before nodding. An instant later, the doors unlocked and swung open, as the woman on the screen stepped out. She was dressed formally, looking no different from a private sector worker.

"You are expected by my lady, Lieutenant Allster," the woman spoke coolly. Her posture and expression were guarded, a clear indication that the woman disliked anyone and anything associated with the Earth Forces. Fllay nodded in thanks and stepped in as the woman closed the door and set off to inform her mistress that her guest had arrived. Fllay took her time to study her surroundings, impressed by what she saw. The Valley of the Stars Hotel lived up to its name of being a six-star hotel. It would not take them long to take the seventh star. Just like the lobby, the suite was extravagant and bespoke of taste and luxury of the highest order. The patio boasted a pool that an Olympic swimmer could train in, and an adjoining wading pool with a clear view of the stars beyond the reinforced armour-glass that protected the colony from the cold vacuum of space. Statues of pagan Goddesses and cherubs poured water from stone pitchers.

One of the statues caught Fllay's attention, and she strode closer to get a better view of it. A woman carved of marble, beautiful and perfect as only the dreams of its creator could fashion, with four wings spread as if to encompass the stars above – or the person who stood before her. Long ears emerged from the statue's long, flowing hair, and the expression on its face bespoke of wisdom, strength, warmth and longing. She was clad in robes, parted, revealing the lush body beneath. A slender arm clutched an ornate staff, the detailing of which astounded Fllay. She would not have been surprised if the figure moved and breathed, so fierce was its anima.

"Who are you waiting for?" Fllay asked the unmoving statue softly, before a hand tapping her shoulder broke her out of her paralysis. She turned quickly to see the dark-haired retainer of Lacus Clyne standing behind her.

"Sorry. I'm not used to such...ostentatious surroundings. It has been a long time since I've ever seen a hotel suite as large or as luxurious as this," Fllay said sheepishly, glancing briefly over her shoulder at the statue.

"You will. This suite is a four-bedroom suite, Miss Allster. One room belongs to Miss Clyne, and the other three are for her immediate staff. In any case, Miss Allster, I believe introductions are in order. My name is Veronica Carew. I am Miss Lacus's Head of Security. I am also the liaison officer that deals with any military officials who wish to speak with her. May I offer you a drink? Miss Lacus is speaking to her PR Manager. She will be along shortly."

"I hope I haven't come at a bad time," Fllay said as Veronica led her to the cabaret next to the pool. The woman arched an eyebrow, amusement in her eyes.

"Hardly, Miss Allster," Veronica replied, "It just means that we sleep a few hours later."

'_Sarcastic bitch,'_ Fllay shook a mental fist at the woman even as she replied that the meeting between her and Lacus was of a more personal nature – and that it wouldn't take long.

"A personal matter...?" Veronica looked intrigued, as she pushed a small wineglass towards Fllay, "Miss Lacus informed me earlier of a meeting in regards to that. So, you're the person she had been expecting. And here I thought you were just another Earth Army representative sent here to pass a message to her from your superiors."

"What else did she say?"

"Just that..." and Veronica paused briefly, "But, if anything, I believe the conversation between you and Miss Lacus would revolve around someone named Kira Yamato. Ah, you are wondering how I know his name. I served on the Eternal during the final days of the Bloody Valentine War, Miss Allster. During that time, I saw her – often – by the side of a young, dark-haired Asian that she addressed by that name. My colleagues in the Faction tell me that he was the same person that my princess gave the Freedom to, on a prayer that he could end the War before Patrick Zala made it worse. After it ended, Miss Lacus refused to talk about him unless it was with people who knew him personally. And even then, the conversations were never long..."

"She must like him a lot," Fllay said, sipping her drink. Her earlier assumption that Lacus loved Kira was proven beyond the shadow of a doubt.

"She still does, Miss Allster. But I think the proper word to use here is not 'like', but 'love'. I can still remember the last time she talked to him. Miss Lacus told me that she gave him a ring – it belonged to her mother, I think – and made him promise to return it to her when the War ended," and Veronica's expression became sombre as she remembered the Memorial Ceremony held aboard the _Archangel_, "But in the end, it wasn't enough."

"The ring did belong to my mother, Veronica," a voice spoke, causing both women to jump and turn about to find the lovely, pink-haired songstress behind them, "I wish that that promise I made him swear to had been enough to keep him alive, so that he could live in the days he and so many others fought and bled to bring about. It is not a perfect peace, I admit, but it is the first step towards something approaching that."

Fllay raised her cup in greeting to the songstress, impressed that the latter was able to sneak up on both of them while Veronica, for her part, looked particularly sheepish – an indication that this wasn't the first time that Lacus had managed to sneak up on her. Lacus was wearing an elegant gown and matching elbow-length gloves that complimented her svelte figure. The songstress's pink hair was loose, tumbling over her shoulders down to her hips. Lacus's trademark half-moon hair clips were still on her head, and the way they reflected the light made it look as if she was crowned with a halo. There was a serene, unhurried air about her that was completely at odds with the stereotypical image of the celebrities and politicians Fllay had seen come and go. Lacus bore the weight of her responsibilities as a celebrity and the leader of the Clyne Faction with an ease and grace that made veterans of both envious.

"Welcome, Miss Allster. I hadn't been expecting to meet you after our last...conversation," Lacus said as she beckoned to Fllay to follow her to the suite's main room, "But I suppose that the timing was too perfect for Fate to pass up. To be honest, I would have asked you to come here had you not asked first."

"Thank you taking the time to see me," Fllay said, "Sounds as if you already know the reasons as to why I requested that we meet."

"I do. I knew that this meeting was unavoidable. It is not something I want to do, but it is necessary if we are to leave our pasts behind..."

"It's what he would have wanted us to do. We may not want to, but it is time to move on," Fllay replied.

The two women sat in complete silence for several minutes before Veronica asked if there would like anything to drink. The tense air was such that Veronica could cut it with a knife and sought a way to break it. Lacus nodded, "Cosmic Starfire, please, Veronica. Thank you."

Lacus's dark-haired aide returned moments later with a small bottle that held the drink that her employer requested, along with two wineglasses. Veronica poured them the drinks before leaving them alone.

"Before we begin, how should I address you? Lieutenant Allster? Fllay...? Or is it Angel now?"

Fllay took a sip of the drink, feeling it burn a blazing trail to her stomach. She coughed, her face redder than her hair, "Fair warning. This thing is not for amateurs."

Lacus gave her a puzzled look before taking a sip herself. Her eyes widened as she found out what Fllay meant – the hard way. The songstress's face turned as red as her visitor's hair. Fllay chuckled, "I kinda figured you weren't the kind of person who goes out drinking a lot. And Cosmic Starfire, though one of the best drinks, takes some getting used to. Take another sip, Lacus. And do it slowly."

The songstress followed her advice.

"So, how does it taste?"

"I could get used to this. It's like drinking fire, but is soothingly warm when it finally sinks in. Veronica recommended it to me, but I preferred champagne over the harder liquors my aides and acquaintances preferred. I take it that you have done the same?"

"As Fllay Allster, like you, I stuck only to light alcohol – synthetic or otherwise – as my father forbade me from drinking more than a glass. That, he told me, was reserved for my eighteenth birthday – and during my wedding to Sai Argyle," Fllay's voice was wistful, remembering better times long gone, "As Angel Allster, I've drunk enough to be familiar with the various types of alcohol – but I drink only during special occasions."

"And is this one, Angel of Fire?" Lacus asked, a smile on her lips, "And if so, what is it?"

"Yes, it is. As to what type of occasion...it's a Remembrance," and Fllay finished her drink before pouring herself another, before raising her cup to Lacus in a toast, "One last time to remember Kira Yamato before we leave him behind and let his memory rest in peace; Remember who he was, what he did and why he did the things he did."

Lacus nodded and tipped her glass against Fllay's, "I can see why you are doing this. You want to remember the past with joy, rather than let sorrow be its closing words. You want to let Fllay Allster breathe one last time before she is finally allowed to die, before Angel Allster takes her place."

Fllay could only nod, surprised at how well the songstress had managed to read her.

"Are you prepared to leave your past behind, Fllay?" Lacus asked as she stood up and drew back the curtains to reveal the skyline of Neo-Stratos, "The name you are leaving behind is one your parents gave you – and they never give us our names for no reason. Changing your name will never change the person you are inside."

"I cannot forget what you said to me when we met on the _Nightingale's Star_ after that incident," Fllay said as she joined Lacus, "After all the training I went through in order to qualify for the EA's MSOP, I began to realize something..."

"That you had been living in your own little world before your father's death made you realize how harsh reality was?" Lacus finished.

Fllay wanted to fire a return salvo, but the cat had held her tongue in place and was glaring at her. There was something in Lacus's tone that told Fllay that she could empathise with her...and why. Lacus's father, Siegel Clyne, had been killed by Patrick Zala's HISA (6) kill-teams. Before Fllay could ask the songstress to clarify the facts, the latter told her that she had spoken with the Earth Alliance representative on Neo-Stratos to ask for details on a certain matter.

"And what details would they be?" Fllay asked.

"On why your father would risk so much to bring you back home safely," Lacus said. Fllay felt her heart ache as memories of her childhood and her early teenage years returned. She remembered the birthday parties he had thrown; her father had invited his colleagues and their children so as to help ensure that his daughter would never be lacking for company. She remembered her father catering to her every whim, remembered him calling her daily no matter how busy he was. And she remembered, all too clearly, his final moments when the ship he was on was destroyed. It had been a traumatic experience, but the emotional anguish caused by that event faded as the war dragged on. It was not ZAFT, she learnt, that had killed her father. It had been the war. It had been the war that took Tolle away from Miriallia. It had been the war that had left thousands dead, many of whom who would never be buried beneath the soil of their respective homelands.

"Now you do," Fllay replied, her voice shaky, "My father was the last of his family. My mother died when I was young, and her family was killed in the opening days of the Bloody Valentine War."

"And like me, you're the last surviving member of your family," Lacus finished for her.

Fllay raised an eyebrow upon hearing those words. Lacus was the last of her family? Fllay had originally believed that the songstress had, at least, an uncle or aunt living somewhere in the Earth Sphere. Clearly, that assumption had been wrong.

"My father was a kind-hearted and caring man. He was someone who could inspire people to believe in his vision for the future. He was aware of Earth's oppression of the PLANTs, and wanted to change that. Diplomacy was a better alternative to force, if only to address the roots of the resentment and hatred that would compel those in power to utilize the second option. Had the events leading up to the Bloody Valentine War not taken place, he would have been able to achieve a peace far more stable than the one that we're living in," Lacus took a sip of her drink before continuing, "Every time I book into a hotel, I ask for – if possible – for a room with a view of the city. Not because of my status, mind you, but to remind myself of what my father strove to accomplish. It's...hard because every time I see this, I am reminded by the bitter fact that the words and actions of the good are often interred with their bones. It's as if the sacrifices they made when they were alive didn't matter. I'm trying hard to believe that what I do will make a difference."

Fllay was silent for several moments, acknowledging the point that the songstress was making, "Then believe that. You **ARE** making a difference. You have the ability to make a difference. When I first joined the Earth Forces, I stupidly made the decision to pilot the Strike when I heard that Kira was planning to return to Earth with the rest of the refugees from Heliopolis. I knew that I had no skills whatsoever when it came to piloting Mobile Suits; I was in the middle of getting my driving license, if you can believe it. I was three seconds away from putting on the flight suit before Kira came into the locker room..."

Out of the corner of her eye, Fllay saw that Lacus's grip on her glass had tightened and her eyes held that same icy, angry edge she had seen over a year ago when they met on the _Nightingale's Star_ after the War's end. One part of Fllay's mind told her to wisely alter the course of the conversation, but another, more insistent, part told her to finish it.

"A part of me was relieved that he didn't leave the ship, but I couldn't help but wonder why. He had a chance to leave it all behind, to not fight in battles where a single mistake would cost him his life. I was about to ask Kira what caused him to change his mind, but he was more interested in knowing why I was holding his flight suit. He wasn't slow on the uptake. He knew what I was planning to do. I told him the reasons why. Everyone was doing something to make a difference. I told him that I had to do something – anything – that could bring this war to a swift end. He told me that I was not suited for the battlefield – nor was I capable for piloting the Strike. He would do that, to protect me and everyone on the _Archangel_."

Now Lacus flinched visibly, "Was that when you decided to use him to carry out your vendetta?"

Fllay stiffened upon hearing that. Knowing that telling the pink-haired songstress what she did next would rile her up, the red-haired officer chose her next words carefully. The kiss she had given Kira that day was a promise that slowly became real.

"We all make mistakes, Miss Clyne. _**I**_ know no matter what _**I**_ do or say, _**I**_ cannot undo what _**I**_ have done," Fllay replied, "I learnt too late that I was lucky to have someone like Kira love me. Few men I know can display such devotion. All I can do now as Fllay Allster is to make sure that Angel Allster does not forget. For better or worse, today is Fllay Allster's final night."

Lacus wanted to tell Fllay that what she was doing was the coward's way out, but the songstress hesitated. The conviction in the eyes and words of the latter was real. It was the easiest way out, but it was the only way that the red-haired girl before her could bear the burden of her sin without losing her sanity. And who was she to throw the first stone? She herself was doing the same thing, leaving behind a bitter past to step forward into a future someone she cherished had died giving her. But her efforts, unlike Fllay's, were half-hearted. She did not want to leave those memories behind. No, Fllay Allster was not a coward. A coward would never go to the lengths that Fllay would have gone to earn forgiveness.

Lacus sighed, and turned her eyes back on the city skyline, "I will not contest your decision. But I have a question."

"Go on."

"Are you prepared to leave **everything**," Lacus emphasised the word, "behind so you can fully become Angel?"

Fllay finished her drink and put the glass on a nearby shelf. Though worded differently, Raine had asked the same question several days ago.

"Yes, I am. I have nothing to lose...and everything to fight for."

Upon hearing those words, Lacus could see the kind of person the Fllay would eventually become. Fllay, as Angel, would be a second Kira, soaring through the star ocean to defend a fragile dream that had endured through history's bloodiest eras. But unlike Kira, who was driven by his desire to protect his friends (7), Fllay was driven by her past. No matter how much she wished to forget it, it would always be there, shadowing her like an angry ghost whose vengeance would only be sated when she drew her final breath.

Lacus sighed softly. The day she long feared was fast approaching. Though there were countless who remembered the day Freedom and Justice rode out to end an insane war, only one of its two pilots had a face and a name. The other was known only to a select few, whose name was whispered like a prayer and who, like so many heroes of the past, was doomed to be forgotten.

And that was what hurt Lacus most of all.

**X X X X X X**

_**Somewhere on Neo-Stratos, at that very moment...**_

Another sneeze threw the sub-commander of ZAFT's 11th MS Squadron off his feet, startling his companions once more.

"Damn, boss. That's your 22nd sneeze in the last five hours since we've landed on Stratos," Raijin said as he jumped out of the way. It was official – either the chief has got the flu fairy marking him or there was someone on this very colony, as he had pointed out back on the _Enuma-Elish_, who was talking (and thinking) about him. Most likely a girl, the big man thought, as Cross was not the type to go for guys. Cross Lionheart was as straight as a man with a healthy libido could be. Tiffa's grins after they were done being frisky was as good an answer as could be given.

"Must have been the hash browns we had for breakfast. I'm starting to think someone put sneezing powder in my food...again," Cross fired a menacing glare at Cykes, "Sayers...if you did..."

"Hey, peace, boss. I learnt my lesson after the first time. I never thought anyone could sneeze that hard and send food flying in every direction...yuck..." Cykes made a face, "Not to mention you had me scrubbing the latrine for days afterwards..."

"Cykes has a point, boss. Besides, he has his reputation to uphold. If he does do it a second time, he'd want us all present when the hammer falls," Raijin gave a mean grin, "That way, we can take a quick picture of both your faces – before and after the murder."

"The tricks Cykes loves to play on me aside, I can't seem to understand as to why I'm sneezing. And please, don't go back to that silly superstition, Raijin. There is no way my sneezing fits can happen twice in two consecutive days. I **must** have caught a cold," Cross replied while rubbing his nose.

"Well, at least lover boy can't give it to his girl," Cykes joked, elbowing Cross in his ribs, "And speaking of the gang, why aren't the girls with us? I mean, Helena's concert isn't until tomorrow at 2200 and we have more than twelve hours to party. Why split up the group now?"

"That was Tiffa's idea. Before the concert, she wanted a 'girl's night out' to help Helena ease up for her debut and to pick up some new clothes for their wardrobes," Cross said as the three of them left the military spaceport's main lobby and to the outer area where the cabs were.

"So that was the reason why they all left in such a hurry once Sheila (8) gave us permission to disembark," Raijin said as he put his arms behind his head, "It don't matter if they're in the military or not...girls will be girls. Mention shore leave and they will make a beeline to the mall to shop for clothes. It's strange. For us, the phrase 'clothes shopping' is a bit of a taboo subject, but for girls, it's their Holy Bible."

"I think it has more to do with fashion than the clothes itself, Rai. I mean...look at us. Our fashion sense needs some work..." Cykes said, "We look like gangsters..."

There was truth in what the red-haired pilot had said. Cross wore a dark blue t-shirt and a fur-lined jacket. His cargo pants, combat boots and gloves gave him the image of a biker. Raijin wore a black leather trench coat over a gray muscle shirt, loose trousers and a belt made out of chain, its buckle cast into the head of his old namesake. A black head band kept his wild, dark hair from falling over his face. Cykes, for his part, wore lighter-coloured clothing. Like Raijin, he wore a trench-coat save that its right sleeve was missing, if only to better display the wolf tattoo he had on his arm. His t-shirt held the design of a wolf pack on a mountain howling under the full moon.

"But then," Cykes continued, "guys like us don't really care what we wear. We stick to one rule – we keep our clothes, like our lives, simple. Or, to quote something I've read – 'Keep It Simple, Stupid'."

Raijin sweat-dropped, "You've been reading through Ayanes's stash, haven't ya?"

"How did you guess?" Cykes asked.

"The term you used was an acronym for an old band called KISS. I overheard Helena asking Ayanes about old Earth music and bands some months back. I think Helena wanted their names and the recording of their songs for her gig tomorrow," Raijin replied as he flagged down a cab. He preferred the old-fashioned cabs which utilized human drivers than the auto-cab systems that drove their passengers to their destinations. It reminded him of home – and the fact that it kept people employed.

"Anyways, what I'm saying is that what we wear reflects our personalities. Same thing with our Suits; we 'wear' them to be who we are inside. What I'm trying to say is that the girls 'wear' them too, but they wear those dresses we know they're going to buy to...remind themselves that they are the same people they were before they became the people they are today," Cykes struggled for his words as Raijin opened the door to the cab, "Like...they're this kind of person before they are someone else. Sometimes, you can feel a past life in your every action..."

Cross and Raijin exchanged startled looks. Cykes Sayers was not someone who was given over to deep thought – that was the bailiwick of someone like Ayanes or Helena. Raijin decided to lighten the mood before Cykes took his train of thought any further. In one quick motion, the giant put his red-haired colleague in a headlock that left the latter protesting. The patented 'Black Hole Lock' – the worst thing to happen to anyone since the atomic bomb was invented, in Cross's opinion – left the unfortunate soul in its grasp two options – get out of it or surrender. Option 1 held zero chance of success; Raijin was the strongest Coordinator in the Solar System. Option 2 guaranteed that you got out of it, though your pride – and your head – would be seeing stars for a while.

"That's it, smart-ass. Tell me the name of the officer who gave you permission to use your brains on our night off?" Cykes asked, as he pounded the head of the unfortunate (and protesting) Cykes. The cab-driver and Cross watched the horseplay with growing amusement. It took Cykes the better part of a minute to get out of the headlock. The way he did it reminded Cross of an old cartoon that had left the poor cat's head in the shape of a tube (9) when the mouse managed to escape into its haven. Cross and Raijin laughed at the grumpy Cykes, who was busy trying to restore his hair, which had – no thanks to Raijin's headlock – the impression of a cylinder.

"This is our night off, bro. Our brains are officially off-duty for the next twelve hours," Raijin told Cykes. Cross winced inwardly. The big man had left himself open for a riposte, and Cykes pounced on it like a wolf on the prowl, "We may not have to use our brains for the next 12 hours – but you haven't used yours for close to twenty years. And we're still waiting for the day when you will!"

Cross knew that this battle of wits was about to erupt into a fist-fight soon. Cykes wasn't as skilled as Raijin was when it came to brawling, but that didn't stop him from going toe-to-toe with the giant. When it did, Cross could only shake his head in disbelief on how his crack team of pilots could act like kids on crack. Knowing he should break up the fight before it started, Cross got into the cab, put two fingers into his mouth and gave a shrill whistle.

"Cykes, you'd better get in here or I'll tell Sheila that you changed your mind and decided to keep her company!"

The red-haired pilot did not need any further encouragement. The thought of sitting in the same room with the stern captain of the _Enuma-Elish_ was a death-sentence to the fun-loving Cykes. No ghost would be as vengeful – or as watchful – as Sheila D'Avenant. Cykes dodged Raijin's fist and dove into the cab in one swift motion, yelling at the amused cab-driver to get going before the bear came and killed him.

"Do as he says," Cross said. The cab-driver shrugged, the grin widening, "Your friend is gonna' be pissed."

"On this idiot's head be it," Cross replied, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at a giggling Cykes. The cab sped off, leaving behind a startled and infuriated Raijin, who immediately flagged another cab and had it follow theirs. Cross rubbed his temples. How did it a night off end up becoming a prank and brawl session?

'_If they get themselves in trouble with the colonial police, I am so not going to bail them out of jail. But then again...Helena would be sad if the whole team didn't show up to her concert. Should I?' _and Cross looked at the still-giggling Cykes, _'On the other hand, I might as well enjoy the rest of evening...and deal with these two monkeys later.' _

Cykes got off five minutes later at the nearest shopping arcade, hoping to pick out the newest instalment of the Devil May Cry series (10). It was old stuff, but the game developers had used the latest technologies to bring old (ancient, in Cross's opinion) gaming classics back to life and infuse them with new storylines and characters. The cab-driver turned to him and asked where he wanted to go, since he had not gotten off with Cykes.

"Dagon's Double Deuce," he told the driver. Cross had been to Neo-Stratos several times in the past during his trainee days, and Dagon's was the one place where he knew where the drinks weren't watered down or overcharged. Plus, he knew its owner. That meant that he would not get carded at the door.

As the cab moved into the next lane, the cab driver asked him what brought him to Neo-Stratos.

"Just enjoying a break before I go back to a job where I'm forced to work overtime with compensational benefits that wouldn't buy me lunch."

The cab-driver laughed, "That bad?"

"Well, not completely. At least the dental plan is good, and one gets to travel a lot. The only real downside is that I can't decide when I get to go on leave. The people up top are very reluctant to let us have off days they expect us to be on duty 24/7."

"Ah, you're an army man, aren't you? Which one? EA? ZAFT? Or one of the Neutral nations?" the man asked, "Doesn't matter to me, though. To me, they're all the same regardless of the uniforms they wear."

"How did you know I was with the military?"

"Easy. One, you came out of a military spaceport," Cross mentally kicked himself when he heard the cab-driver say that, "And two, I was a soldier once. I served in ZAFT ever since its formation. One thing I picked up along the way is how to identify a fellow soldier. You may not be in uniform now but your body language is practically singing praises about not being in one. Lastly, you have that edge that only our kind have. You may try to act all normal but deep inside, you know you're not one of the folks out there."

"Is it that obvious?" Cross asked, surprised.

"Only to those who have been in service long enough and seen the worse of the War," the cab-driver said as he turned the cab into the colony's entertainment district, "To everyone else, you're just an average Joe with an attitude."

Cross chuckled briefly, before asking why the cab-driver thought that the diverse military organizations of the Earth Sphere were no different from one another despite the fact that each one was unique in the way each was organized and their _modus operanti _in combat.

"That's easy. Why _**does**_ an army exist? The answer to that is simple. It exists to protect a sovereign state against any aggressor that threatens it. The latter knows that the moment it initiates hostilities against that country, it's going away from that fight bloody. The second reason is that the army serves to defend those in power – no matter how wrong those people are," the cab-driver could not hide the pain in his voice, "I was there, you know. I was there when Patrick Zala took power. I was there when Alaska got blown to Hell. I watched the GENESIS cannon fire. I heard from my pals that quit ZAFT that Patrick Zala went nuts about wanting to burn the Earth before one of his aides shot him. It hit me then that everything Patrick said and did was to avenge his wife who died when Junius-7 was destroyed. And you know the saddest part? I can understand his desire to seek justice at any cost. Had I been in his shoes, I would have done the same."

Cross nodded sombrely. While many in ZAFT were of the opinion that the late Chairman of PLANTs' decision to reduce the Earth to ashes had been madness, there were those who condoned his actions. Patrick Zala's actions were for the good of the Coordinator race, they said. The Naturals had unleashed their nuclear arsenal – an advantage that the Coordinators had managed to neutralize with their N-Jammer technology – in the final days of the War to finish the job they started when they sunk Junius-7. The GENESIS gun had been a deterrent in the event the Naturals managed to regain their nuclear capabilities. But, Cross knew otherwise. Patrick Zala, the late Chairman of PLANT and Supreme Commander of ZAFT, was not one to build such a weapon for the purpose of deterrence. The GENESIS gun was built for the destruction of a world – a sick relic of a long-bygone age lost to history.

"So, since you're with the military, which unit are you from? And why Neo-Stratos?" the cab-driver asked, breaking Cross out of his train of thought, "I can think of three other colonies most army guys would go to if they wanted to let their hair down."

"I'm part of the Constellation Team," Cross replied, "And am one of the _**lucky**_," emphasising the word, "few who managed to get some time off before I am sent back to the mines. I'm not picky about where I get to spend my leave as long as I get it."

"Constellation Team?" the cab-driver was impressed, "The STAR-class Homeland Defence Squadrons? Damn, you're a rare sight. I meet the Bloodhawk Elites more often than I do you guys. But, I thought they shut down the STAR program after the war...?"

Cross shook his head. The cab-driver shook his head in disbelief, "You know, I picked up a red-haired beauty from the Earth Forces and dropped her off at the hotel where Lacus Clyne is residing. Now, I have a customer who is one of the rare few STAR-class (11) soldiers in the entire Earth Sphere. Man, I should try my luck at the local lottery tonight. Who knows? Maybe I'll win the 30 million credits and be the richest cab driver on the colony."

The two of them exploded in laughter. When Cross finally regained his composure, he asked the driver if he knew who the Earth Alliance officer was. His curiosity was piqued. Was the person the cab driver mentioned the one he would meet later on?

"Well," the cab-driver was blushing like a school-boy, "I managed to get a look at her name. It was 'Allster' or something like that..."

That confirmed it. The cab-driver's earlier passenger was the person he and the Steel Angels would meet the day after tomorrow. But what surprised Cross was the fact that the Earth Alliance ship, the _Shield of Destiny_, had arrived ahead of schedule. He figured that the captain had done so in order to give her crew time off before they met up with them. Cross shrugged. Whatever the reason was, he could worry about it later. He had a chance to enjoy life like a regular person for once. Work can wait. Tonight, he was going to have a good round of drinks. And tomorrow, he could deal with the hangover that would come in the shape of one over-sized bear of a man and one red-haired punk.

Well...that was for tomorrow.

**X X X X X**

_**Neo-Stratos's shopping district**_

_**The Amethyst Rose Boutique**_

While Cross, Cykes and Raijin went about doing their own things, Tiffa, Ayanes and Helena were doing the one thing they had missed doing – and what needed to be done.

"So, Tiffa, what do you think of this dress? Is it good enough for Helena's concert?" Ayanes asked as she held up a dress before the blue-haired girl.

Tiffa studied the dress, "Not bad. The slit on the sides will definitely show off your legs, but the front is not cut low enough. You do want Cykes to really notice you at the concert, don't you?"

"Of course, girl," Ayanes replied with a playful leer, "Had you and Cross not hooked up, I would have put him in my cross-hairs. Now, don't look at me like that, Tiffa. I've read the property rights manual – as have the ton of girls who are jealous of you – and we know better than to try to run off with your man. You'd come after us with the nearest blunt instrument. Now, how low do you think the neckline should be?"

"Right down here," Tiffa replied several seconds later, indicating to the upper level of the sternum.

"Okay. The new fitting rooms that these places have nowadays are perfect for making any alterations to the dress without damaging it. I think I should get another for more...formal occasions."

"Kinda hard to believe we're all buying dresses that we're may not even get a chance to wear," Tiffa said as she tried to decide which of the three dresses she should buy, "We spend so much time on duty that the clothes we buy from the Armoury (12) are more utilitarian than fashionable. And we can't very well wear formal military uniforms for Helena's concert, can we?"

"True. But you can't blame anyone for that. Our job is a 24/7 affair and taking vacations isn't something we can plan ahead of time – and that is _**if**_ we can get it in the first place. How Cross can do this job with such single-minded ease surprises me. Anyone else would have ended up in the madhouse or quitting," Ayanes said as she posed before the mirror with another dress.

"He is who he is. People like him aren't as rare as many people would like to believe," Tiffa said as she appraised another dress that she was tempted to buy.

"If that is the case, then what is it that makes him so different?" Ayanes asked.

Tiffa paused briefly, her hand going to the ring-necklace that Cross had given her. It had been the only thing that linked him to a past he lost. It had been clear to the blue-haired ZAFT officer that the ring that hung from the necklace meant a lot to him even though he could not remember why. She remembered him staring at it, as if trying to find his lost yesterday in its silvery depths. When Cross had given it to her, she had found herself unable to speak. It had left her with many questions – all of which was answered by a simple declaration.

"You know how Cross cannot remember anything about his past? Like every memory he had until the end of the War was wiped out from his hard drive?" Tiffa asked Ayane, who nodded, "Well, back when he was recovering, I told him to leave his past behind as he can no longer remember it. I told him that the present was all that really mattered in life. I don't know why, but I get the feeling that the way he is now was the way he was before he lost his memory."

"That doesn't answer my question, Tiffa," Ayanes said as she draped the dress she had chosen over her arm.

"Actually, it does. Though Cross doesn't remember his past, he knows that others do and that they treasure it. He knows that if someone dies, everything that that person has experienced and learnt will die with him. The people whose lives he could have changed would never have a chance to do so. A simple meeting can change everything – and it shows others that they are never alone," Tiffa said as she nodded in approval at the silk, two-piece ocean blue dress.

"Alone...? What do you mean?" Ayanes asked, confusion etched on her face.

"What Tiffa is trying to say is that no matter at what point in history we are at and no matter the irrational fears people might have, we are all the same in the ways that matter," Helena said as she walked out of the fitting room. When Tiffa and Ayanes turned their attention on their friend, their eyes widened in amazement. The dress that Helena had had altered was of a shade of deep crimson, contrasting with her snow-white hair. The front of the dress a single diamond shaped opening, from her collarbone to her waist, revealing her cleavage and complimenting her svelte figure. The dress had slits to show off her legs and a girdle within intricate scrollwork. The dress had two long sleeves edged in soft furs, giving Helena the image of a sorceress. Ayanes whistled as Helena turned a full circle.

"Wow...! Good choice, Hel," Tiffa said, "That is one dress worth the price tag that it came with. If it wasn't for the fact that you are sticking with your call-sign, I'd write our superiors to change it to Starfire Angel. You look like one – and your audience will probably think so too."

Helena blushed at her friend's praise.

"I agree with Tiffa, Starlight Hawk," Ayanes addressed Helena by her call-sign, "You **will** turn heads with your voice and your outfit. I can bet a month's pay that if Lacus Clyne herself walked into that audition, she will see you as some serious competition."

"Thank you..." Helena finally managed to catch the cat that ran off with her tongue.

"By that way, Helena...how did you know what I was going to say just now?" Tiffa asked her friend, bringing the conversation back to the previous topic before Helena emerged from the changing room.

"When I first met him, what he said told me all that I needed to know on who he is inside. Cross Lionheart is someone who cares more for others than himself – and he can see things that most people are blind to. It's a gift...one that is sorely needed in these times," Helena said softly. Tiffa and Ayanes fell silent, pondering Helena's words. It went without saying that the glue that held the Steel Angels – the Constellation Team Leo – was because of Cross's efforts. His presence held a ship and a team with a bond tempered in a crucible that tested it in every engagement.

"You know, Tiffa," Ayanes spoke finally, breaking the silence, "I've said it before and I'll say it again: You are one lucky girl to have a guy like Cross beside you. I wish – and I think Helena thinks the same way too – that he was my man. And like you, if he was, we'd never let him go. A lab cannot create the qualities that Cross has; that scar over his eye is like the mark of everything that makes him strong..."

"Maybe," Tiffa replied as she walked over to the fitting room, "But you are right on one thing, Ayanes. My Cross is not someone who can be created in a lab."

When Tiffa closed the sliding door, she felt the words that she wanted to say on the tip of her tongue. She had bitten them off, knowing that they were unnecessary. It was not the cross-shaped scar over his eye that gave her lover his inner strength. It was the one over his heart. She remembered the first time she had touched both. It did not take much to imagine the pain of receiving both. Tiffa remembered nights when Cross would lie awake, rubbing away the ache of those scars. The decision to not have them removed was partly due to the reason that those scars were his last link to a past lost to him. His expression was a haunting mixture of joy and sorrow when he said those words.

A knock on the door broke Tiffa out of her thoughts as Ayanes called out to her on the other side, asking that she hurry up. Tiffa called out, requesting a few more minutes, and proceeded to study the dress she had selected. All in all, perfect for the occasion. She slid open the dressing room's sliding door and nodded at her waiting friends, and the three proceeded to the check-out counter. Tiffa's hand went to the ring-necklace as she felt an icy chill grip her heart. A sense of foreboding soon overcame Tiffa, as she looked at a full-length mirror she had just walked by.

It was as if Death himself had whispered something in her ear, telling her that the mission that the Steel Angels were about to undertake would be their last one together, that the bond that had bound them all would be broken. Tiffa tightened her grip around the ring, whispering a silent prayer to whatever God that would be listening to protect Cross as he had protected so many others. No matter the cost, Tiffa was going to make sure she could keep her lover alive and a part of the team. She refused to allow their daughter to grow up without a father.

The Azure Pegasus rushed after her friends, trying to shake the feeling that whatever was about to happen, Cross would play a major role in it.

"It feels like your past is finally coming back to claim you, my darling," Tiffa whispered softly. She shook her head, and pushed the negative thoughts to the back of her mind. Now was not the time to brood; it was the time to enjoy – as she so loved to advise her friends – the present, and let the future take care of itself. This evening was for all of the Constellation Team Leo.

One last night together and, come what may, they will be together when tomorrow comes.

**X X X X X X **

_**Dagon's Double Deuce Nightclub, 10 minutes later...**_

By the time Cross had arrived at Dagon's Double Deuce, he realized that he had at least three hours to himself before he was forced to return to the _Enuma-Elish_. As he strode up to the door, the enormous bouncer that stood before it raised an eyebrow, and nodded in greeting.

"It's been a while, Cross," the bouncer said.

"Hey, Hicks," Cross said, giving the big, black man a high five, "How's life been treating you?"

"I'm not complaining. Can't complain about my job since I get as much beer as my liver can take," Hicks said as he slapped Cross on his back, almost knocking over the latter off his feet. Cross pitied those unfortunate enough to take a blow from the big bouncer; they would wake up a week later asking what manner of vehicle had hit them.

"Aw, com' on, Cross!" Hicks chuckled as Cross rubbed his sore shoulder, "You'll never be able to hold your liquor if I can knock you down with that tap while you're still sober. I thought your time in the service toughened you up."

"My instructors never expected me to meet someone like you nor did they train me to win drinking contests and suffer in hell afterwards," Cross said.

"You're still sore over that time I drank you under the table, huh?" Hicks grinned, savouring one of the few victories he could get over the hardy Coordinator before him, "Well, regardless who won, we both lost the morning after, didn't we?"

"Please do not ruin my night, Hicks," Cross half-begged.

"But you'll still be praying to His Majesty come morning, anyway," Hicks said, referring as to how Coordinators and Naturals alike paid their respects to the same God after imbibing too much liquor, "I've kept you out here too long, Cross. Go on in. And try not to drink so much, all right? They pay me to keep the peace, not to haul half-dead drunks to the nearest motel."

"No promises, man," Cross said as Hicks opened the door.

The nightclub was not as crowded as he hoped it would be. Of the fifty or so tables, only twenty were taken. Several of the pool tables were in use, and from the cheers from a group at one of the later, he got the idea that there was a bet going on. A closer inspection made him wince. Instead of drinks, two daredevils were using Jalapenos and – judging from the sweat pouring off the two – one of them was about to crack and dash for the nearest water fountain. Cross decided to sit somewhere where he wouldn't get run over by a man on fire. The safest spot was the bar itself, which was occupied by a man and a woman. The first was clearly making passes at the second, his intentions as clear despite his offer to buy the woman a drink. Cross could see, as the bartender handed him the shot of whiskey he requested, that the woman was getting extremely irritated.

As soon as Cross finished his drink, he saw the guy touch the woman's shoulder...and heard a pained gasp. Cross's eyes widened, and he grinned. The woman's soft voice, steel sheathed in velvet, confirmed the image that had taken shape in his mind and he could _almost_ pity the man.

"You are clearly an idiot, so I will say this in words that even a retard can understand. I. Am. Not Interested. Now, I suggest leaving this place before I decide to turn you into a woman – and believe me, I can carry out threat," the woman tightened her hold, "Have I made myself clear?"

The high-pitched reply in the affirmative had Cross chuckling as the rejected man staggered away. When he managed to leave the nightclub, Cross turned his attention to the woman, "Not to sound like a chauvinistic male, but I hope you didn't break a nail getting rid of him," Cross said, "He is not worth a visit to the manicurist."

The woman did not even look at Cross when she replied, "Cost efficiency. If it gets the job done in the quickest possible time with the intended results, it's worth the expenditure of both resources and effort. That is a credo worth living by – including when I'm off-duty and having a drink."

Cross winced upon hearing the woman's reply, "If I struck a nerve, I apologise. For what it's worth, I understand what you're talking about and I know it's hard to leave it behind if only for a while."

"I find that hard to believe. There are few jobs out there that adhere to what I've just said religiously."

Cross got up from his seat and walked over to the woman, sitting down to her right and one stool away from her. He did not want to end up like the man who had limped out of the Dagon's Double Deuce.

"You're right on the job part, but I do understand the concept of cost efficiency," Cross said, motioning to the bartender for another round for both him and his new companion, "What I do for a living is almost the exact opposite of the very word itself. I gave up most of my life and many things dear to me to protect the lives of others. I know that those same people will never know my name or even recognise me when I walk past them in broad daylight, but that hasn't stopped me yet."

The woman accepted the drink, and rolled the amber fluid within the whiskey glass before replying, "Maybe it will. Maybe it won't. Even so, regardless whether they are good or evil, can you live with the consequences of your actions?"

Cross did not reply. To answer in either the negative or the affirmative was the equivalent of putting one's foot on a land mine. He had heard such questions voiced before, and the tone in which they were asked. He had seen the expressions on the faces of those who asked and knew that it could mean only one thing.

"If you don't mind my asking...what was his name?" Cross asked, taking a sip from his drink.

The woman froze, startled. When she turned to look at him, the dim lighting of the nightclub and the distance between them made it impossible for her to fully make out his features. The only thing she could see was the cross-shaped scar over his left eye, and her heart-rate skyrocketed. Could it be...? No. No, it was impossible. No one could have survived that, not even him. It was the alcohol and the lighting, she finally decided, which was causing her to see things. The woman shook her head, never realizing that Cross was studying her through the corner of his eye.

Despite the dim lighting, he could tell that the woman was pretty. Her long, dark hair was loose, cascading to her hips and the way her amethyst eyes caught the light reminded Cross of twilight. Those eyes were stern, but held an edge of tenderness that softened its harsh intensity – eyes that now regarded him with an unspoken demand as to how he knew that the source of her pain involved some_one_ and not some_thing. _

Cross froze as a surreal moment as a memory arose from the depths of his mind. For a brief moment, he was no longer in the nightclub. He was meeting the gaze of this same woman – her hair considerably shorter – aboard an unfamiliar ship. The image faded as swiftly as it came, causing Cross to shake his head briefly to clear his mind.

"I've met people who have something they want to say but who hold back because they are afraid of what others would think of it," Cross replied to the woman's unspoken question.

"And what makes you think that I will tell you?" the woman's eyes narrowed, "I don't even know who the hell you are."

"It's better to say what you **want** to say then to silence it with the bottle every now and then. I know that the only thing I can offer you now is my word when I say that I will listen without judging you. And if you want a name to go with the face of this impromptu chaplain, then call me... Whisper, for now."

The woman gave Cross a penetrating glare before turning back to her drink. Though Cross had come to the Dagon's Double Deuce to enjoy the evening, something inside him told him that walking away from the woman before him was as bad a mistake as he could ever make. Cross had learnt to trust his inner voices when they acted up; they have, as far, never let him down.

"Well, Whisper, or whatever your real name is, what makes you think that I will trust you enough to tell you anything?" the woman asked.

"Just like my name says, what you say will be heard only by the two of us and stays as whispers. They will never become anything more to me, but can become something you need," Cross then asked the barkeep for a cup of hot chocolate so he could stay reasonably sober while he listened. The woman, he saw, was having an internal debate on if she should proceed. The ball was in the woman's court. Now, all that was left was if the woman would serve.

"His name is...was Kira Yamato," the woman said, not meeting Cross's gaze in shame. Cross flinched upon hearing the name, but kept silent. He could not back out now, and neither did he want to scare her. The woman's voice was low and shaky as she spoke; it was an indication that the subject she was bringing up was not a pleasant one.

"He was someone...who made me whole. He came into that strict, regimented world of mine and turned it upside down. Had someone told me that I would fall for someone who was as gentle and clueless as him, I would have written them off as crazy."

Cross kept his voice low so only she could hear him, "What happened that made you change your mind? Did he do something?"

"No," the woman shook her head, "The only thing he did was be himself. He did a lot of incredible things during the time I knew him," and her eyes took on that haunted thousand-yard stare that Cross had seen far too many times on war veterans and survivors, "And all he wanted was to be normal. To live a normal life, where the only worries were his grades, his exams and how he could win the heart of the girl he loves. He would be making his own decisions...not carrying out those made for him by those who wanted another to take their place on the ferry. And I was one of those people..."

Cross took a sip from his drink, "But he never changed, did he? He stayed the same regardless of what he was forced to do and what wrongs were done to him. That takes rare moral and inner strength, miss."

"Indeed. But I could see he didn't want to be. He knew that the price for such strength would be high, and that paying it scared the living daylights out of him. He never spoke it out loud, but it was there every time he did what was asked of him."

Cross put one part of the puzzle together, "He kept his fears to himself and never failed to give it his all when he was needed. He focused everything he had, everything he was, to being there for anyone who needed him. And every time he did so, he would tell you to fly a kite, didn't he?"

The woman nodded sombrely.

"It sounds like he was the personification of something you gave up long ago. Something you didn't want to give up when you finally found it again. Was that how it started?"

Again, she nodded. That was all Cross needed to confirm that the woman before him was talking about a fellow soldier – and that she was one herself.

"I'm guessing that, when you first realized it, it was happening at a point in your life when such concerns were irrelevant. You tried to ignore it at first. Then, you tried to accommodate it so that it would adhere to the rules you were following. And that did not work either, did it? He would not be swayed, no matter what you did."

The woman chuckled, a bittersweet sound that held equal measures of frustration, exasperation and joy.

"Never once did he falter," she agreed, "Even when I betrayed him and left him to die without confirming it with my two eyes, he did not falter even then. He saved my life when anyone else would have left me to pay the Devil for my actions. Why did he do it? I almost cost him his life and sanity more times than I can count...and for what?" the woman's voice became thick with self-loathing, "So that my family will know that their daughter had comported herself according to the principles that they have followed for centuries? That foolish boy...he..."

The woman started to shake then, and Cross knew that whatever words she wanted to say were ones that would test the limits of her courage. Courage she did not have at this point in time. Cross put a hand on her shoulder to calm the stricken woman. Her eyes, he could see, were closed tight, as if she was trying to recall the final memory of the person who had broken the chains she had placed on herself. It was painful, he could see that too. It took the woman the better part of five minutes to compose herself once more.

"He was happy that he was able to be there for me when it mattered most, Whisper. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times in my twenty-eight years of life where someone has showed me compassion without asking for anything in return. He never asked for anything. Not even shore leave..." and the woman laughed at the memory, "He had to be **ordered** to take it."

Cross developed a sweat-drop and started twitching. Where did this kid come from? Mars? No, scratch that. The Martians were human enough to take shore-leave when offered. This kid came from outer space. Ordered to take shore leave. **Ordered.** This kid was due for a psychiatric review had he been part of his squadron. But, another question came to mind. Who was he? What was his name? Before Cross could ask, the woman continued speaking.

"After he saved my life, Kira threw himself back into the War and tried to save as many lives as he could. I had lost consciousness then. I never saw how he died. I only knew from those I had turned my back on how he had met his end," the woman fell silent briefly, an indication that she would not reveal details on how this Kira person had died, "He was a boy when I first met him...but he was a man when I last saw him."

More pieces of the puzzle fell into place. This Kira Yamato had clearly fought in the Bloody Valentine War and had left a mark on those who knew him. He was, according to the woman, a human face in an inhuman war. Two years had passed since the War's end, and the fact that this woman – among others, Cross could sense – could not forget Kira Yamato bespoke of the person he had been. There were other things Cross wanted to ask about him, but doing so was insensitive. Some secrets were meant to remain known only to their keepers. Cross finished off the last of his hot chocolate before speaking again.

"I think he was more than that, miss. You didn't see him as a man when you last saw him. You saw him as someone worth loving. And I think you fell for him long before he saved you. With him in your life, you finally had a chance to be who you were meant to be and not continue being what was demanded of you. The mask that **almost** became your face started to crumble, then, to reveal the person and the woman beneath," Cross replied, "That was the person he had given his life to save...and not the person she was trying to become."

The woman did not reply, but Cross knew he had hit the proverbial nail on the head.

"You also told me that the manner of your betrayal would have caused others to leave you to meet your maker – or to settle the score themselves. But...was that really the act that caused you so much pain? I don't think so," and Cross raised his hand, a silent request to the woman to let him finish before she punched his lights out, "No. I believe that it was the unspoken words you never had a chance to say that is a splinter in both your heart and your conscience. You wanted to say them, no matter what his reaction would have been."

The woman laughed then, a bitter and pained laugh. Cross knew that the woman was imagining the reaction on Kira's face after those words had been spoken. The affects of her drink loosened her tongue just enough for her to let those words she had kept locked in spill out.

"I know what his reaction would have been if I told him how important he was to me, and how sorry I was for trying to make him into something he hated. How I couldn't bear the pain of losing him again..." and the woman's lips curved into a pained smile, "And you know what...? He would turn red and try to say something. And I won't let him. I would be kissing the living daylights out of him...and not care what anyone would think of me after that."

Cross was impressed. This was one woman who was proud of the man she loved. He could almost picture the lost, dazed look on Kira Yamato's face the moment this woman let him up for air.

"But, who am I kidding, Whisper? All I have left to remember him by are bitter memories and impossible dreams – nothing that I can hold without being reminded that I was the one responsible for destroying everything I hoped to have."

Cross took out several credits to pay for their drinks, carefully formulating a reply in his mind that was neither cheesy nor condescending.

"When we lose something, we will do one of three things – fight desperately to get it back, leave it behind and look for something else to replace it or just keep on walking and forget that that something was lost. You did all three. You fought to get it back, but you could not. You tried to find something to replace it, but it only helped to a certain degree. And finally...unable to fill that emptiness fully, you chose to forget it."

The woman nodded.

"That was when Kira Yamato entered your life and turned everything upside down. Before you knew it, you were**alive** once more. The things you had once believed in returned in force – and the things you believed in at that point in time started to take on new meaning. When you thought him dead, you did the same thing all over again. You returned to the person you had been before you met Kira. You tried to forget, tried to rationalise that he was just another casualty in an insane war that had killed thousands. You would end that war, one way or another, before someone just like him died for nothing," Cross paused briefly, "But, when he came back into your life, it was but for a moment before you lost him again. Enough to return you to grace, but enough to break you out of the same chains you had bound yourself with again. I can understand, miss. All of that which has happened to you will break the will of even the strongest."

"And that's why I am still in the military. I'm there to fulfil the promise I made. I admit that there are times when I can forget the pain and focus on the task at hand – and such moments are as close to Heaven as I can have," the woman said.

"Don't do that. Don't let your regret become something that eats away at you. You see it as something that is too much to bear, but you're forgetting something. It takes a lot of inner strength to carry that burden on your own. And that strength comes from the fact that you loved someone," Cross said before getting up and walking over to stand beside the woman, "We may never regain what we lost yesterday, but we can hope – and fight – for a better tomorrow. You believe in that, and you'll not lose your way. Now, when you manage to get some of your brain cells to work again," Cross smiled briefly upon seeing the woman twitch, "head home and sleep. When you wake up tomorrow, you leave the past behind...and start living again."

Cross suddenly had an idea, "And if you're feeling up to it, I'd suggest you head down to Symphonia's Rising Light Concert Hall – same time – tomorrow evening. Something tells me it will work a lot better than drowning your sorrows in alcohol."

The Steel Angels' sub-commander wrote down the name of the concert hall and the time before leaving it next to the woman. He could see that the woman was deep in thought. It was best that he took his leave, if only to give the woman privacy and to avoid any situation that led to him waking up in her room after intercourse. If that ever happened, Tiffa would kill him using a Mobile Suit – and that was if she was in a forgiving mood. Cross shuddered to think what his lover would do to him if she was not.

As soon as he walked past Hicks, the bouncer asked his friend why the latter was leaving after so short a time. The only response Cross could give without getting more questions was the one nobody could argue with – duty calls, and the military man with the stars said so. In truth, something inside him told him that he had done all he could do at Dagon's and for the anguished woman whom he had an interesting conversation with moments before. It was time to go find Cykes and Raijin before they ended up in the brig.

Whatever it was, Hicks told Cross to take care of himself as the latter hailed a taxi.

"You got it, Hicks," Cross replied, "After all, you and me, we still got that bet going. I **WILL** drink you under the table next time."

The bouncer laughed then, and flipped Cross a finger, "When Mars invades Earth, Cross, just like they did back over a hundred years ago."

Cross chuckled, got into the cab, and nodded to the driver. Finding Raijin and Cykes was easy – all he had to do was tune into the radio for a live police broadcast or the breaking news. They would turn a bar or a nightclub into a battleground. When he asked the driver if there had been any interesting news, the cab driver shook his head in disbelief and told Cross about a war taking place in an amusement park. It seemed that two individuals were at war with each other in the hyper-bumper car section and were not letting up. All efforts to separate or calm them down had been futile.

The Steel Angel commander developed a sweat-drop, and the incoming headache made him wish that he had bought a bottle of whisky before leaving Dagon's. Cross rubbed his temples, fighting back the inevitable headache that always came whenever Cykes and Raijin started their nonsense. He asked the cab-driver to take him to the amusement park.

Cross did not see the doors of Dagon's Double Deuce swing open as the woman he had been speaking to rush out, frantically searching for him. He did not see Hicks ask the woman what was wrong, but received no response. Not only that, had he known the reasons as to why she was searching for him, Cross would have viewed it as mere coincidence.

However, in the woman's mind was an undisputable truth. Her chance encounter was by no means coincidence. At first, she had thought that it had been the dim lighting of the nightclub and the drinks she had imbibed that had affected her judgment and her cognition but she knew that she wasn't the case. Her mind had been clear when she had spoken to the man who had acted as her chaplain. A chaplain whose voice had haunted her dreams and the emotion in which he spoke making her heart ache. That alone would have been cause for her dismiss the meeting entirely had it not been for _one_ thing.

Her final memory of the man who saved her even as her ship broke apart was one etched deeply into her soul. She remembered everything with crystal clarity, despite the wounds she had received. She remembered the way Kira had held her as he carried her off the _Dominion_, remembered the words he spoke, before the darkness took her. But he had died. There was no way that anyone could have survived that. But, right now, for the sake of her sanity, she wanted to know who her chaplain was. She could not afford a distraction of this magnitude to distract her in the coming days.

The woman let out a sigh. She knew it was pointless. There was no way in nine Hells that she would be able to find him on the crowded streets. Whoever he was, he was gone and she was left alone...again. She apologized to the bouncer before mingling with the crowd. She needed to clear her mind before she returned to her quarters on the ship she commanded. She had walked down several blocks when she realized something. Before 'Whisper' left the bar, he had written down something and passed it to her. In her haste to follow him scant minutes later, she didn't realize that she had grabbed it and hit the nightclub's doors running. Now, her composure regained, the woman withdrew that napkin. Something was written on it, proof that she had not been hallucinating and that the owner of that haunting voice existed.

'Symphonia's Rising Light Concert Hall, Sector 12-A. Tomorrow, 2100 hours.'

The woman raised an eyebrow. She had heard from her subordinates about the place and that there were auditions taking place there. It wasn't much to go on, but it held possible answers to unspoken questions.

Natarle Badgiruel, commander of the _Shield of Destiny_, smiled, "A concert. It **has** been a while. I suppose I'd better buy a dress for the occasion."

As she hailed a cab to take her back to her ship, the small sliver of doubt in her mind finally took hold. Why was it that even though her heart, mind and soul agreed on the same thing, her intuition was telling her otherwise? Natarle could not shake the feeling of unease. Only on closer introspection of the source of her unease did the reason take shape.

Why was it that, although he was right there, next to her, did it feel like he wasn't...whole?

_**To be continued...**_

_**Editor's afterword: **_

I would also most likely be starting on my own version of Lost Memories, concentrating on other characters that will appear in this project. Oh, you'll meet them eventually. Trust me. I'm just readying the invasion force – both for myself and Kouryuo Sabre. Treat it as the calm before the storm. Now, where is that notebook of mine...? I have a war to plan.

Wait. Now that I think about it...I have several. Good grief.

1) Carl Jung was Freud's peer. He created the theories regarding the collective unconsciousness and archetypes. Of the latter, he focused on three: the _Animus, _the _Anima_ and the _Shadow._ The _Animus_ is the essential masculine energy, emphasising rationality and logic; the _Anima_ represents the female aspect and is the seat of our emotions; the _Shadow_ represents the shadowy aspect of our unconscious minds and consists of our repressed weaknesses, shortcomings and instincts. It is irrational and instinctive, but **NOT** evil.

2) If you've read Kouryuo Sabre's original script far enough, you will know that Ko Shiatar pilots the Burning Neith Gundam. In my draft, she pilots the Blazing Fist Animus Gundam, which was created in the image of Freedom – albeit with a few modifications. One of those modifications is, of course, twin power fists and extendable fighting claws.

3) Earth Alliance patrol fleets will, from here on out, be called Grigori squadrons. Grigori are also known as Watchers who, according to Jewish legend, reside in the third or fifth level of Heaven. There are good and evil Grigori. They have very human appearances (save that they are larger), never sleep and are forever silent. One of the legends of the Fall of the Righteous revolves around Grigori copulating with human women, birthing the Nephilim. (_Angel's A to Z,_ James R. Lewis & Evelyn Dorothy Oliver). I knew I made a blunder somewhere...argh...

4) Yes. You heard right. The Behemoth-class battle-cruiser from StarCraft is making an appearance in this story. There are two types – the normal battle-cruiser and the one converted into a carrier. And no, they won't have the Yamato Cannon (maybe until later, but we'll see). More details below:

_**Battleship Facts: Behemoth-class Battle-cruiser**_

**Length: **450 metres/ 550 metres (Leviathan-class variant)

**Crew: **150 (+ 50)

**Consumables: **4 months (+2 months if rationed)

**Power Plant: **Plasma fusion generator 'Vishnu' Mk-8

**Engines: **Thermonuclear thrusters

**Weapons: **12 laser batteries; 6 Sledgehammer Missile launchers; 14 Helldart Missile launchers

**Weapons – Leviathan class : **12 laser batteries; 12 Helldart Missile Launchers

**Armour: **NeoSteel High-density armour plating

**Variants: **Behemoth Type-2, a.k.a Leviathan-class – capable of carrying 12 Strike Daggers or 15 Mobile Armour of various classes. Forward hull converted to linear MS catapult and hull area converted to drop-type MA launchers. Leviathan class is 550 metres, a full hundred metres longer, to increase holding capacity. The _Percival_ is a Leviathan-class.

_**Description: **_Yes, for those who know, this ship comes from the game, StarCraft, by Blizzard Entertainment – the company who brought you WarCraft 3 and World of WarCraft. Why did I choose it? Simple: Because a grand majority of you know what it looks like and its standard armaments, and the fact that it fits the bill of new weapons systems that is in step with the Gundam SeeD world. Google it if you want to know what it looks like.

The Behemoth Battle-cruiser is a ship of the line used by the human race in the days prior to the War of Wrath. Its Standard Construction Template allows it to be customised according to the requirements of each of the human factions back then; its appeal lies in its durable construction, reliability and technological flexibility. Changes can be made to convert the Behemoth from a Battle-cruiser into a medium carrier (a.k.a Leviathan- class), albeit it will have to sacrifice the Sledgehammer Missile Launchers

It can operate beneath the atmosphere and in space, which is why the Earth Alliance is spending almost 20 of its annual budget to construct several squadrons to augment its orbital and sub-orbital defence fleets.ZAFT plans to use the Behemoth as part of the newly-initiated Homeland Defence Initiative (i.e.: border patrols and support fleets) and to augment their space-fleet. The neutral states, including Orb, intend to use those ships to strengthen the defences of its colonies in space.

The Behemoth's construction templates were discovered by the Crimson Wing Junker's Guild, who sold the template to ZAFT, the EA and to the neutral states; they earned quite a tidy sum, to say the least.

5) They did not know Kira's name. They DO know that Fllay was by his side, however.

6) HISA – Homeland Internal Security Agency. They are PLANTs' anti-terrorism, counter-espionage and counter-intelligence organization. They have links with ZAFT, and there is a degree of rivalry between them and ZAFT's Military Intelligence Division (though it does not spill over; they are aware that their tasks affect the security of the Homeland, and so do not waste time bickering over whose dick is bigger and whose responsibilities lie where – unlike America's internal security apparatus these days. Sigh...)

7) It makes me wonder, sometimes, why Kira is so driven to protect his friends. Hmm...that's worth looking at. To the drawing board...

8) Sheila D'Avenant is the commander of the _Enuma-Elish_, the ship on which the Steel Angels are stationed on.

9) And yes, the cartoon Kouryuo Sabre and I are referring to is Tom and Jerry.

10) I was thinking about using Dead or Alive, but I have a use for that game series.

11) STAR – Special Tactics and Rescue Division. An elite group second only to FAITH, and a step above the Bloodhawk Elites. The pay is excellent, but the benefits are few. Expect to be on duty more often than at home. The Constellation Teams of ZAFT's Homeland Defence Squadrons are STAR-class. The EA and the neutral nations of Earth have their own STAR-class teams as well. Each of the latter are, like their ZAFT counterparts, trained extensively before being deployed.

12) The Armoury – The quartermaster's shop where you get spare boots, uniforms, garters and the like. No military worth its salt is without dozens of these in operation to provide to the rank and file.


	7. Chapter 6

_**Gundam SeeD Destiny – Lion of Heaven**_

_**Original Idea, drafts and concept by Kouryuo Sabre**_

_**Re-written by Spiritblade**_

_**Disclaimer: **_I think we can skip this. We know who Gundam SeeD and GSD series belong to, and who the original writer of this story is – and it will be most discourteous if I should ever forget.

Special thanks to Kouryuo Sabre for allowing me to write this story. And, dear readers, I have a boon to ask of you. Please do leave a review or two for both me and Kouryuo Sabre (visit his profile page – it has some excellent works). It will ensure that we don't fall asleep on duty.

Oh...and a bit of shameless marketing. Please read both our other stories as well, and hand us some reviews. Keep us going. And I apologize if this chapter took so long to come out.

Now, on with the story...

**(O)**

_The ion thrusters of the approaching gunships were bright against the starlit skies, and whipped out clouds of snow and vapour as they landed at their designated landing zones. Its armoured hatchways parted, allowing its waiting passengers to enter and secure themselves before lifting off. Flavius Troika watched his comrades-in-arms leave from the top of a hill. Behind him was the charred skeleton of what had once been a Shinto shrine. Several feet away, scattered about the courtyard and buried in the snow, were the skeletal remains of the temple's priest and his – or her – acolytes. They had been among the countless thousands who had been unable to escape the rain of death that the Bloody Angel had unleashed on the planet. Rigel III had eight hundred major population centres and countless smaller ones scattered throughout its five major land masses. Each and every one of them was now a lifeless graveyard, populated only by ghosts._

"_Flavius?" a voice called out. The Throne Guard Decurion turned to see his fellow Decurion and sibko _(1),_ Lavinia Troika, walking towards him. Her long, white hair tumbled over her armoured shoulders and breastplate. Her tall, plumed helmet was held under her arm and her Guardian Spear was held in the other. "Lavinia," Flavius nodded, "It's been a while."_

"_Yes, it has," Lavinia replied as she stopped several feet from her half-sibling, before turning her gaze on the devastated, snow-covered city that spread out before her. It was only after several minutes of companionable silence that the white-haired Throne Guard Decurion finally spoke, "So, this is how it ends? Here, on this dead world which was once home to six billion souls, the Bloody Angel meets his end. How ironic that he is laid to rest amongst the bones of those he had murdered."_

"_Justice has been served, Lavinia," Flavius said, "The ghosts of millions will rest easy knowing that the Traitor now burns in Gehenna."_

"_Has justice really been served, Flavius?" the female Decurion asked, her armoured hands tightening around the haft of her Guardian Spear, "What transpired here, brother, is an insult to that very word. We were hunting the Bloody Angel down like an animal. And look what that hunt has cost us. We have over a thousand of our brethren, including the Ten Planetary Incarnae and the son of the Divine Wolf. Has there ever been a manhunt in the history of our race that has seen to so many of the hunters being buried in a single day?"_

"_No, there hasn't," another voice spoke, causing Flavius and Lavinia to turn about to see a Claymore striding towards them. The Claymore was clad in carapace armour, her silvery locks and cloak fluttering in the strong winds. The crimson sash tied around the Claymore's slender waist marked her as a team leader. A team leader Lavinia apparently knew._

"_Matilda Ragnarose," Lavinia nodded, "Were you spying on me?"_

"_I wouldn't do something so tasteless, Decurion Lavinia. But, I heard enough to know what is troubling you," the Claymore replied, "And I, like you, have the same doubts regarding the charge of treason Lord Commander Darien had levied against the Bloody Angel. The Traitor had chances aplenty to betray us, but why choose to betray us at the last minute? He is no fool; what could he gain by siding with the Black Empress when her reign is all but over? Why spare the person who was responsible for the destruction of his entire clan?"_

_Before Lavinia or Flavius could answer, the Claymore provided the answer she knew was on the tip of her comrades' tongue, "Indeed. The Bloody Angel has no reason to side with the Black Empress. Nothing short of her death would satisfy his hunger for vengeance."_

_Matilda turned her head and gazed upon the city, "The cure our masters engineered came too late, Flavius. These people were doomed – as were those on the planets earmarked for destruction by the seven Legions of the spear-tip. I sometimes wish we had destroyed that military research facility instead of capturing it, but that would eventually have led to the deaths of billions more."_

_Lavinia's expression darkened. Flavius looked at his half-sibling and back at the Claymore, before asking what it was that they had found in the military facility that had led to the destruction of over two dozen worlds, colonies and its people. Lavinia turned a haunted gaze on her sibling, " What we found there, Flavius, was madness – and one that was crafted by human hands for an insane dream that has no place in Creation._

"_The hand that reaches for the highest apple disregards the one lesson humanity should remember when we were cast from Paradise," Matilda continued, "There was a serpent hiding in the tree."_

**(O)**

_When the last ship shot into the night skies, an emerald-haired woman turned and strode deeper into the ruins of the Cathedral of Seraphs, her long hair swaying with each step. Its thick walls were proof against the freezing winds, and her inbuilt countermeasures would ensure that the hunters of both her and her master would never find her. She knelt next to the unconscious, battered form of her master, running her fingers gently over his wounds, using her abilities to heal them. _

_It had taken her all of her strength to protect her master from the fury that had been unleashed upon them, and to get them away before their enemies could detect them. The woman was exhausted, and knew it would not be long before she allowed herself the comfort of slumber. A sad smile curved her lips as she ran a gentle finger down her master's face._

"_I guard your death, my Bloody Angel. Rest now and dream of good things," the woman spoke, pulling him into her embrace and wrapping her wings about him._

_**Chapter 6**_

_**The Phoenix and the Lion.**_

_**The Pegasus's secret. The Hawk's song.**_

_**The Gathering begins.**_

_The day I received my commission as an officer of the Earth Forces had been one of the proudest days of my life. That day – the 27__th__ of May, Cosmic Era 68 – was one etched into my memory. I knew that day that, somehow and in some way, I would be able to make a difference, no matter how small. The choice to become a soldier was my own. I was not persuaded by the many impressive posters and commercials that encouraged many young men and women fresh out of university or college to enlist in the ranks of the Earth Army. I was young then; I thought I knew what I was getting into. _

_I thought that the training I received as a recruit in boot camp and, later on, as an officer cadet in the Academy would have prepared me for the day when war would break out. To a certain degree, it did – but it did not prepare me for when I would cross paths with four exceptional individuals. I met them during the days of the Bloody Valentine War, in days of fire when I was made to question everything I stood for._

_The first was a female lieutenant who went by the name of Natarle Badgiruel. She came from a family whose service to the Earth Alliance stretched back to the days when the EA was once called the Earth Defence League. Natarle is an honourable woman and a competent officer, if her strict adherence to the book could be overlooked. And she is loyal; God alone knows what went through her mind when she received instructions from her superiors to hunt down and sink the Archangel. Though I was not close to Natarle, I knew that the thought of turning on those she had once fought alongside and commanded revolted her. The fact that she extended an olive branch and demanded my surrender when we next met after the fall of the Alaskan Headquarters was proof of that. Natarle had begun to break the chains that bound her. It came apart with an almighty crash in the final, bloody days of the Bloody Valentine War. Someone precious to both Natarle and me had made the virtues that Natarle held dear into something better. _

_The second was a Mobile Armour Pilot whose name was known even amongst ZAFT's elite: the famous Hawk of Endymion, Mwu la Flaga. Credited with 25 confirmed kills, he was easily one of the Earth Alliance's top pilots. It's hard to believe that my first impression of Mwu la Flaga when I first met him was that he was a stereotypical hotshot; I had met many MA pilots before him, and a good number – but not all – of them had a very high opinion of themselves. Not so with Mwu. He told me once that the victory he helped bring about on Endymion had all but caused ZAFT's High Command – and no thanks to the EA's PR department back on Earth – to paint a very big target-lock on his face. The Hawk of Endymion was a man who took few things seriously, and his sarcastic jokes sometimes made me want to throw the nearest blunt object at him. He means well, most of the time, and I admit that without his insight, support and opinions, I would have stumbled many times before._

_The third was a young woman named Cagalli Yula Attha, whom I had met when the Archangel had crash-landed in North Africa. She had been part of a well-equipped, well-organized anti-ZAFT resistance group known as the Desert Dawn. A fiery and opinionated individual, Cagalli was everything Kira – the fourth person – was not. It surprised me how well the two of them got along despite their differences. I see clearly now why Fllay had reacted the way she did back then; Cagalli would not hesitate to take Kira away from her should she realize what her plans had been. I don't blame Fllay for acting or feeling the way she did. She was – is – a casualty of an insane war. Throw in the fact that Cagalli was a Princess (THAT surprised me when I found out!) and one can understand why Fllay re-doubled her efforts to keep Kira away from Cagalli. It somewhat disappointed me to discover that Cagalli was Kira's twin sister. I often wondered how it would all have ended had they been two different people. Maybe, it would have been different. Maybe Kira would have lived._

_No, no amount of wishing would change the fact that he is long dead. We, the ones who live now, who bore witness to the end of the Bloody Valentine War, knew who played a major part in ending it. Which is why, after the memorial, we who survived swore that we would make the peace heroes had died to build endure. Prior to the creation of the SENTINELs, my former superiors in the Earth Alliance made offers (and apologies) in hopes that I would rejoin the Earth Army. I refused each and every time. Whether they admitted it or not, the EA played a part not only in Kira's death, but in the deaths of thousands of their own soldiers. The memories haunt me still, and I can sometimes hear the screams that flooded the Archangel's communications channel as the CYCLOPS array beneath the Alaskan base exploded. Coordinator or Natural, it did not matter. Anyone and anything caught within its blast radius was doomed._

_Alaska had been a trap – a trap set up by an administration and a military that supported a madman whose vision of peace involved killing every last Coordinator in the Earth Sphere. There is no doubt in my mind that once that was done, the Blue Cosmos faction will – fired by that victory – take their bloody crusade to other planets in the Solar System. Their battle-cry for a blue, pure world will become one for a universe free of the taint of the Coordinators. It makes me shiver to think what would happen should they try to fight against Mars (which would most likely be their first target, next to Venus). The EDL a century ago barely won that war – and that was against one of the strongest of the three superpowers in the Martian Sphere, which had a military surpassing the combined strength of the EA and ZAFT put together._

_There was another reason I did not rejoin the Earth Army: I did not want to betray the memory of those who had fought and died by my side during the Bloody Valentine War. Duty, loyalty and honour – these are meaningful words, virtues that I would learn – my instructors in the EA Military Academy had promised – as I served. In the three years I had served in the EA prior to the Bloody Valentine War, I have seen – and met – a handful who lived by those virtues. And few of them would return to save those who had left them for dead. Even though I still have nightmares of the Alaskan massacre, one memory stands brighter than them all: Freedom descending from the sky, the way my heart froze and how silent the Archangel's bridge had been when we heard Kira's voice from Freedom._

_ZAFT had chosen a good name for the two experimental Mobile Suits that would deliver the Coordinator race from fear and oppression. But, in the hands of Kira and Athrun, those two suits became the embodiments of ideals embraced and cherished by all humanity. Justice and Freedom spread their wings and soared, their clarion cries a rallying call for those who wanted the madness to end. I will fight my hardest to ensure that there will not be a Second Bloody Valentine War. We owe it to the living and the dead to make it so._

Journal Entry of Admiral Murrue Ramius, SENTINEL 1st Armada. Written on April 17th, Cosmic Era 73.

**(O)**

It had taken her some time, but Natarle found what she was looking for over the PLANT's Interlink: a fashionable dress that would go hand-in-glove with the ticket to the concert that her mysterious listener had invited her to. Even though making preparations had been a hassle, Natarle knew that what had transpired the night before was something she could not afford to ignore. For the sake of her own sanity (and those of several others), she wanted to know the identity of the person she spoke to. The second she had returned to the _Shield of Destiny_, Natarle had done a swift, in-depth investigation that would have impressed her instructor back in her Academy days.

In less than 15 minutes, she had learnt everything she needed to know about the Symphonia's Rising Light Concert Hall: who built it, who owned it, what events were being hosted there and the VIPs that frequented the establishment. Natarle had looked through the concert hall's event roster for the 18th of April. One piece of information had stood out: one of the concert halls was hosting auditions for several up-and-coming singers. But among the participants was, strangely, a ZAFT pilot – and a member of ZAFT's Constellation Team, no less! A quick check told Natarle that the ZAFT pilot – a beautiful girl who went by the name of Helena Evanescence – was one of the MS pilots who would be working with her in the forthcoming mission. Natarle looked at the symbol at the upper left-hand corner of the digital document she had called up from her ship's databank: a cross with six wings superimposed on a sunburst surrounded by twelve stars.

"Constellation Team Leo, The Steel Angels, eh...?" Natarle whispered to herself.

She had not told Kimsey – or Angel, for that matter – of her plans. The commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ would be able to fabricate a plausible lie should either of them come looking for her. Attending a concert would not raise their eyebrows higher than it should. And besides, if either of them knew her true intentions, there was no doubt in Natarle's mind what their reactions would be. Kimsey would want to know the reasons behind her actions and wouldn't settle for anything less than the whole story of the time she had spent on the _Archangel_. Her First Officer was not stupid; she would put the disparate pieces of the puzzle together within minutes before going through that song and dance of hers about Coordinators being untrustworthy and that her actions were unbefitting of an EA officer.

Natarle knew that, in time, Kimsey Tauros would eventually get over her hatred of the Coordinator race – or at least come to understand that not all of them were responsible for the deaths of her siblings. The dark-haired commander knew that the mission they had been assigned by their superiors had left a bad taste in the mouth of her First Officer. The fact that she was going after Coordinator terrorists had mollified Kimsey somewhat. Nonetheless, Kimsey would not raise a finger to help Natarle in this particular instance. Her First Officer was here to hunt down terrorists, not help her captain find her lost lover.

Angel was another matter entirely. Natarle could not bring herself to tell the red-haired pilot of the Avenger Phoenix about her meeting the night before. The latter's reaction would have been less than pleasant if she had. Angel Allster, once Fllay Allster and daughter of the late Undersecretary of the Earth Alliance, George Allster, had fought to bury an identity that had caused the deaths of thousands – including the person she loved. If Angel so much as heard a rumour that Kira was still alive, there was no telling what it would do to her. At best, the red-haired pilot would move mountains to determine the authenticity of the rumour with a tenacity bordering on obsession or, in the worst-case scenario, break down and lose her mind.

Natarle knew it was impossible for anyone, Coordinator or otherwise, to survive the explosion that had destroyed the Freedom. It was impossible for 'Whisper' to be Kira, but Natarle was not about to ignore the possibility, no matter how remote or ludicrous it was. If Murrue or any of Kira's friends had a similar encounter with 'Whisper' in the near future, and not be informed beforehand that he was merely a lookalike, they would launch a pointless, sector-wide search that would only make old wounds bleed anew. That went double for people like Lacus, Cagalli and Murrue, who wielded considerable political power. If they were distracted, their political enemies on Earth and in PLANT would take advantage to destabilise the tenuous peace between the two.

Natarle chuckled. The sheer thought that the life of one person would decide whether peace was possible felt so wrong. She gazed at the picture of him and his friends. Kira would never have believed that his legacy would become the pillar on which the Earth Sphere's future would be built. The beeping of her intercom broke Natarle out of her thoughts. The dark-haired commander strode to her desk and depressed the flashing button, opening the line. The face of her First Officer, Kimsey, materialized on the screen, "Captain, there is a call from the base's front desk. The clerk there says that there is a package for you from the Crystal Rose boutique, and that the delivery man requires your signature to complete the transfer."

'_That's fast. I only put the order for those items only five hours ago,'_ Natarle smiled inwardly, _'I suppose being a military officer has its perks...'_

"Tell them I'm on my way, Kimsey."

Switching her computer to standby, Natarle left the _Shield of Destiny_ and headed for the front desk, bypassing numerous officers and armed soldiers wearing the dark grey uniforms of the PLANT's garrison as she did so. As she did so, she went over the possible questions Kimsey would ask later on, and the best answers to them. The undeniable curiosity in her First Officer's voice told Natarle that some of those questions would be asked. The Crystal Rose boutique was only patronized only by the rich and famous, and Natarle certainly was neither. The items she had ordered had cost her the better part of two months' worth of pay. Natarle was somewhat glad that Angel was not on board the ship. Though the latter could help her throw Kimsey off, it would lead to Angel asking the questions the blonde First Officer herself would ask – and that would be more than awkward. Natarle already felt guilty for keeping the younger woman in the dark about the events the night before.

Natarle resolved to tell Angel and her friends the truth once she had all the facts. She stopped at the base's secondary plaza, where she stopped briefly and looked up at the three-meter high statue of a man in robes and armour holding a sword in one hand and a scroll in another. On that stone scroll, written in gothic script, was a decree: _'Holy Terra stands not only on the might of its armies, but on the will of its people.'_

**(O)**

Angel could not remember the last time she wore casual clothes or walked through a mall with the intent to do some shopping. She had spent the better part of two years in a military facility, and the only places she could visit had been the base's well-stocked library and the town that had been a short drive away. Thankfully, her time there had not ruined her sense of fashion. Angel stifled a laugh, remembering the look of horror Raine had had back when she had turned up at one of her friend's parties dressed in a military uniform. That had led to Raine all but dragging Angel to town the following day to pick up several sets of clothing **not** issued by the military. The clothes the red-haired pilot now wore had been among those picked out by her Chief Mechanic that day. While they were out of fashion with girls her age, they were effective in allowing her to blend in with the crowd.

The young woman paused briefly as she met her counterpart's grey eyes on the reflective surface of a shop window. There was nothing left of Fllay Allster left in that reflection. Until her meeting with Lacus Clyne the day before, there had been instances when the girl Angel had been rose up to the fore to reclaim the life her newer identity had cast aside. But, no longer – the girl that was Fllay now slept forever. She had the same grey eyes, the same, soft, crimson hair and a skin tone a shade darker, but none of it bespoke of the identity Angel had buried. When she tied her hair up in that familiar ponytail, it had looked out of place on her. Now, she let her long, crimson locks tumble over shoulders. The last thing Angel noticed had changed was her voice. The voice of Fllay Allster held the inflections and tone of one born to a comfortable life. The voice of Angel Allster was firm, the tone lower, the inflections holding the edge of one used to giving commands. Kimsey's reaction to her voice had been to stand to attention, much to the former's chagrin, when the latter told her that she was heading out to the city and would return in the evening.

Angel turned her attention to the beautifully-tailored business suits and dresses that were on display in a neighbouring shop. Indeed, she smiled, now was a good time as any to improve her wardrobe. Fllay may have died, but her love of fashion remained in her new persona. She strode towards the elevator, its golden, Egyptian-hieroglyphic doors parting before her. As it closed behind her, the doors on the other end opened to reveal three young men locked in an argument.

"How many times do I have to say sorry, boss? I know things got out of hand between the two of us, but no real damage was done at the park, right Cykes?" a big man said, looking to his smaller, red-haired compatriot to back him up.

"That's right. The only thing that was really damaged was the ride we fought on. Some people got hurt, true, but no one was killed. Besides, bumper car rides can be rough...and people can get tossed around."

Angel turned around quickly, but not before getting a brief glimpse of the man the two were trying to placate: a well-built man with a mane of brown hair that caused her heart to skip a beat. She shook her head. It was not possible. The person who had made her heart ache like that was long dead. And that person was incapable of displaying the level of wrath that this one was emanating; she would not have been surprised if steam poured out of his ears. Apparently, the red-haired man – Cykes, was it? – had said something that had antagonized the third man even more.

"Tossed around is exactly what happened to someone who shouldn't have been tossed at all," the man growled, fury lacing his every word, "Because of you two imbeciles, an important person had had his arm broken in your private sparring session! And even with the recent breakthroughs in medical technology, there is no way he can use it for the better part of a week!"

As the elevator began its ascent, Angel could feel the weight shift around the brown-haired man. Whoever he was, it was clear to Angel he held a level of authority higher than the other two. Her unspoken question was answered when the big man replied with a trembling voice, "But, boss, who was this 'important person' that we sent to the hospital? Way I see it, the only people that were there were regular folks. I didn't see anyone who..."

The faint growl coming from the brown-haired man made the speaker swallow hard and the other to take an involuntary step back. Both of them were now sweating bullets.

"Let me make this so simple that even a monkey can understand it. The guy you injured at the Amusement Park with your re-enactment of Mortal Kombat (2) was the guitarist that was going to play at the Concert Hall where Helena is singing tonight. And. He. Was. Her. Guitarist!"

When Angel heard the big man and his smaller, red-haired compatriot whimper, she knew she had moments to make herself scarce. She had no wish to get caught in the inevitable explosion that she knew was coming. She hurriedly hit the button that would deposit her on the nearest level, and strode out briskly, trying to get as far away from the elevator as she could. Angel was thankful that the man's wrath was directed not at her, but at his companions. She was not sure she could stand before such fury and still remember her name. Angel, like every shopper in the vicinity, flinched when she heard him vent it, his voice audible even through the lift's soundproof construction. The torrent of curses would have put a rainbow to shame. Eyebrows went to hairlines as the lift opened its doors once more to release two terrified individuals who nearly tripped over themselves as they ran for their lives and the man who was clearly the source of the voice they had heard moments ago. The last was rubbing his temple, clearly trying to fight off an impending headache.

"From the way you were yelling at those two," Angel said as the man walked past her, "I take it that this is not the first time you wanted to murder them for their antics."

The man was startled at first, before he threw her a look that told her that he wanted to do more than murder his two companions, "There are times I feel more like their father than their commanding officer. Every time I let them out of my sight, I cannot help but worry about the antics they might pull in my absence."

Angel, for her part, was not listening to what the man was saying. She was taking the chance to study his face closely. She had not been mistaken. Despite the scar and the leonine mane of dark brown hair, there was an unnerving similarity in the man's features to the person the red-haired pilot had seen die two years ago. Angel shook her head. It could not be Kira. There was no way he could have survived the barrage that the _Dominion_ unleashed upon his badly-damaged Mobile Suit.

The red-haired pilot blinked back her tears and swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking, "What would you do if they did?"

"If I were their father, I'd ground them for the rest of their lives. But as their superior officer, I wish I had the option of throwing those two into the Empty Corridor before they become a security risk," the man said, referring to the legendary prison-colony that had been destroyed centuries ago, "Unfortunately, the place I work at is short-handed – and that means I have no choice **but** to tolerate their antics..."

The man let out a long breath, "In any case, I apologize for what happened just now. The only way I can promise anyone that such incidents will not happen again is to avoid those two when they're together. Alone, they're capable of rational thought and common sense. When they're together," the man made a face, "their ability to think regresses to that of children half their respective ages. Pardon me, but I have to be on my way. There is something I need to do."

The man turned and strode away, his destination clearly one of the electronic shops. He did not get more than a few steps when Angel, having made up her mind, caught up with him.

"I'm sorry, but do you mind if I tag along?" Angel asked, "You look like someone who is searching for something, and I have some time on my hands."

Angel's rational and flighty side soon had their eyebrows in the vicinity of their hairlines. What, they shrieked, in all that is holy are you doing? Indeed, the red-haired pilot soon began to redden in embarrassment. Why was she acting like this? This was neither the time nor place to act like a schoolgirl with a crush. A small group of female High School students, giggling and pointing at her, made Angel wish she could dig a hole somewhere and hide. Thankfully, the man came to her rescue.

"Thanks, but I'll have to decline your offer. I've caused you enough problems with the earlier incident. I wouldn't like to risk..." and he trailed off as Angel narrowed her eyes.

"I've heard that line enough times to know that the person who usually says it is one who needs help the most. And you're stuck with me now, whether you like it or not," Angel said. The man swallowed, and the people around them exchanged knowing looks. The man, for his part, knew that look. He had seen it many times before, and her tone of voice – married to the determined look in her eyes – told him that that she was not about to change her mind. Any attempt to convince her otherwise would be a waste of effort. And besides, he had learnt that the best way to deal with a woman who was capable of intimidating a man with a look was to agree with them.

"Well, did you hear me, boya?" Angel put her hand on her hips. The man nodded.

"Good. Now, before we get started on your problem, care to tell me your name?" Angel asked, "Or do you want me to call you Scarface?"

The man scowled, "When you ask for someone else's name, it is considered good manners to give yours first. Or would you rather prefer I call you Princess Fireheart?"

Angel developed an anger-cross, and her right eyebrow started to twitch, "My name is Angel Allster. Please refrain from calling me a princess," _because once upon a time, my father had called me that, and the person I loved treated me like one before I betrayed him, _"But as we already took shots at each other, why don't we call it even?"

"Done," Cross replied, "Prolonging a war with a woman as frightening as you is most unwise."

Angel grinned, "You're no different. Did you see the faces of your friends when they ran from you? They looked like the Devil himself was after them."

"Herself, actually," Cross corrected, and pointed to the mall directory, "But let us return to the matter at hand. The sooner I get what I need, the sooner I can track those two monkeys down before they start something. But that's wishful thinking..."

Angel developed a sweat-drop, "Are you talking about those two you yelled at just now?"

Cross nodded.

"You cannot be serious..."

"I am, unfortunately. My yelling at them will give me an estimated ten minutes worth of peace before they start causing trouble again," Cross sighed, his shoulders slumping in exhaustion. Angel patted Cross's shoulder in sympathy, before taking his hand and began to playfully drag him to one of the level's many electronic stores, "Don't worry about those two. If they did do something, you will most likely get wind of it one way or another. Until then, enjoy those ten minutes of peace for what they're worth."

Cross was taken by surprise by the events that had taken place. He had expected to end up searching the electronic stores on his own, considering that Raijin and Cykes were not much help either way, but his encounter with the red-haired girl who had her hands around his was the last thing he had expected. In more ways than one, Angel Allster reminded Cross of the women in his life. She was as beautiful as Helena, and the fierce, fiery core that turned her grey eyes to molten silver bespoke of a strong will that reminded Cross of Tiffa. Likewise, Angel's wit and demeanour had the feline playfulness Ayanes exhibited during her more mischievous moments.

But there was something else about the playfully smiling red-haired girl before him that Cross could not put a finger on. It was as if she was an illusion on the verge of becoming real. But, regardless, whatever it was that had left the crucible of Angel's own making was something beautiful and glorious, and Cross heard the brief, piercing cry of a phoenix rising from the ashes. He shook his head to clear his mind, but it did not silence the growing curiosity in him to know who this person was – or had been. It was as if he **knew** her before she donned the mask that she now wore. But how was that possible? They had met only ten minutes ago!

Unknown to Cross, the red-haired girl holding onto his right hand was asking herself the same questions. Angel's instincts warned her that those questions would only lead to more questions – and that the answers to all of them were guarded by people who would not appreciate her prying. As Fllay, Angel would take heed of the warning and return to the beaten path. Angel, however, was not deterred. If any problems arose from this meeting, she would face them head-on.

**(O)**

Back on the _Enuma-Elish_, Tiffa was busy contemplating her own problems. She poked at the food she had taken from the dispenser. The violet-haired girl was thankful that the mess hall was empty; she needed time alone to think about what she had been told by the hospital. A discreet bio-check on both her and her unborn child had left Tiffa with a dilemma. The doctor she saw helped her in two ways: it helped confirm who the father of her child was and the state of the foetus. It would be born within eight months – and that would mean that she would be unable to hide her condition by the fourth month into the mission assigned to the Steel Angels. There was no doubt in Tiffa's mind that Sheila and Cross would remove her from the crew roster.

But that was not the worst of it. ZAFT's disciplinary policy regarding intimacy within its ranks was lenient, with formal censure and a fine being the most that those charged could suffer. But, should the affair lead to a pregnancy, the stance of the current ZAFT administration was to reassign the female soldier or officer to rear-line support duties. Tiffa narrowed her eyes. Unknown to the public, but quietly whispered by those who worked within ZAFT's military was the policy created by PLANTs' leaders to ensure a steady population growth. When a healthy Coordinator child was born between two Coordinators, a larger part of the incentives given to the family would benefit the mother more than the father. And sometimes, there was a bonus offered to the mother to have more than one child outside of her marriage. The reasons behind such a policy were not spoken of openly, but it was, in the eyes of all who spoke of it, inhuman. Ashley had likened it to a eugenics breeding program whose main aim was to eradicate the weaknesses inherent in the Coordinator race (3). The policy had been suspended under Siegel Clyne's leadership, but reinstituted when Patrick Zala took over and continued by PLANTs' current Chairman, Gilbert Dullindal.

There was no proof to substantiate any of the rumours, but Tiffa couldn't shake the feeling that they were genuine. Cross himself had heard those rumours, and his expression had been thunderous when he spoke of them. Telling her lover she was pregnant would lead to complications, and she knew that once their superiors learnt of it, it would lead to Cross's vanished past coming back to reclaim him. This much, Tiffa was certain.

The female Steel Angel officer took a bun from her food tray, cutting it open with a knife and applying butter to the pared halves. Cross's convictions were well known to his peers, and woe betide the fool that believe themselves safe from his wrath when it was aroused. There was no question in Tiffa's mind that Cross would defend his child to the death. But, against his past that lurked in his shadow like a vengeful ghost, could he win? Ko Shiatar, the Unforgiving Raven, had little reason to lie to her when she told Tiffa of things regarding Cross that had made her worry even more for a future that was slowly fading away. There was no doubt in the mind of the Azure Pegasus that the child born between her and her lover would be unlike any child born in the history of humanity. But would there be a future for their child to live in?

Tiffa shook her head violently to clear her mind of such thoughts. She knew that what was to come was unavoidable. Powers and principalities had laid down the foundations of a play a thousand years in the making, and they would not be deterred by the pleas and protests of one such as her. Tiffa ran a hand through her long, dark blue locks. All she could do was prepare for what was to come to the best of her abilities – and that meant calling in favours from people she had never met in all the twenty years she had been alive. The road Tiffa was on was not one that a child should be on; their child deserved to grow up in a world free of the fear and uncertainty that dogged its parents' every step.

Convincing Cross that to give up his child would not be easy, Tiffa knew. Her hand stroked her stomach in an unconscious gesture of affection, "Don't worry, my little angel. As long as your father is with me, no harm shall befall you. I pray for you – and for the future you will live to see..."

The prayer helped to calm Tiffa and, hopefully, the child sleeping in her belly. She smiled, remembering the dream of a brown-haired child with her violet eyes, toddling towards her with unsteady steps, a soft toy held securely in her tiny arms.

"Please tell me," a voice spoke, causing Tiffa to turn about to see who was behind her, "that it was my mind playing tricks on me when you said what you just did. Did you and Cross...? Are you pregnant?"

Tiffa sighed in relief when she saw who it was. Ayanes stood at the entrance of the mess hall, with a look of rare shock on her lovely face. The violet-haired pilot quickly took a place next to Tiffa, her mind shaken by what she had just heard. It took Ayanes the better part of five minutes before her brain and mouth managed to re-establish the frayed connections, "This was something everyone on the _Enuma-Elish_ has been expecting for some time now – and when I meant **some** time, we had thought it several years down the road and **not** several months! Clearly, neither of you had planned for this eventuality," Ayanes's eyes sharpened, "Because if you did, the lump I'd put on both your heads will be the largest in living memory!"

Tiffa could not meet Ayanes's censorious gaze; she was too busy studying the floor and trying to regain her composure in the face of her friend's rebuke. There was nothing the blue-haired officer could say that would lessen her friend's ire; nonetheless, the former hoped she could make the latter understand her position.

"You're not wrong, Ayanes," Tiffa replied, rubbing her stomach tenderly, "I did plan for this somewhere down the road. Having a child now complicates matters, but I am willing to accept the consequences of my actions," the expression on Tiffa's face hardened as a voice from two years ago disclosed a revelation that left her shivering even now, "This is going to be rough on both me and Cross, Ayanes. You know about his past – and you know that it stalks him like an angry ghost. My...condition may have given it the opportunity to undo everything he had worked so hard to build."

Ayanes's eyes narrowed, "Are you still hung up on what Ko Shiatar told you two years ago? For all you know, it could be nothing but a lie – and a well-crafted one, at that! She might have intended to put a rift between you and Cross, or bring the both of you together. I don't pretend to know who the Unforgiving Raven represents – and I admit, I may not want to – or what she had in mind when she told you or that rubbish, but I **do** know one thing, Tiffa. Ko Shiatar serves only Ko Shiatar; if you believe otherwise, you're an idiot of the highest order."

Tiffa could not refute Ayanes's reasoning. In the eyes of the Unforgiving Raven, she was an insignificant bug the former could crush easily if she became an obstacle. Tiffa had not told Ayanes everything the lovely, dark-haired mercenary had told her; her violet-haired friend would think she had read too many suspense-thriller novels. She sighed, and met Ayanes's amber eyes with her violet ones, "I'm not that dumb, Ayanes. It's her interest in Cross that worries me. Something is about to happen – something big – and Cross is going to be part of whatever it is Ko Shiatar – or her backers – are planning whether he likes it or not. She warned me not to fall in love with Cross and, despite my efforts not do, I did. I pray that if the Unforgiving Raven learns of this," and Tiffa rubbed her stomach, "she would not try to kill Cross as she tried to back when he first emerged from his coma."

Ayanes's eyebrows shot to her hair-line. The Unforgiving Raven tried to kill Cross two years back? Why didn't Tiffa tell her about this? Didn't she trust her? No, that wasn't it. The troubled look in Tiffa's eyes told the violet-haired girl that there were some things her friend was not yet ready to divulge. The blue-haired sub-commander of the Steel Angels let out a long breath, "Ko Shiatar also told me that the future that awaits Cross was one without hope. But now that this has happened, maybe…maybe something will change."

'_Would it?'_ Ayanes wondered as she rubbed her temples. She was all too aware of the Unforgiving Raven's reputation. If Tiffa got in the latter's way, the lovely mercenary would not hesitate to kill the former. And there was clearly more to the relationship Tiffa had with the Unforgiving Raven. The two clearly knew about Cross's past, and it baffled Ayanes as to why Tiffa would choose to hide it from everyone. Ayanes let out a long breath, before speaking, "I guess the only questions worth asking are the easy ones."

Tiffa tensed up, but the sly smile Ayanes shot her drained it out in an instant, "I have two questions, Tiffa. One: Is the little kitten going to be a boy or a girl? Two: Have you decided on a name yet?"

The blue-haired ZAFT officer smiled. Her friend's reaction was all the answer the blue-haired ZAFT officer needed. Ayanes would be there when push came to shove. Tiffa hugged Ayanes tightly, so much so that the latter soon needed to tap the back of the former in an unspoken request to release her before she was asphyxiated. It took a while for Tiffa to regain her composure, and she thanked Ayanes profusely as she did so.

"Oh no, you aren't getting out of my net that easily, girl," Ayanes said, "At least, not until you answer my questions."

"Uh..."

Ayanes rolled her eyes, and repeated the questions she asked earlier.

"If it's a girl, I'll name her Ayanami Krystian."

The violet-haired Steel Angel raised an eyebrow, "Interesting name. And it's one with an underlying meaning. That aside, I have a question. Are you sure Cross is going to agree to your kids carrying on your family name instead of his?"

The smirk on Tiffa's face would put the Cheshire cat's to shame, "I dare him to try and change my mind. He will not succeed."

Ayanes went red upon seeing the libidinous look on Tiffa's face. There was no doubt in her mind as to how the latter would 'convince' her lover should he choose to be less than amenable to her decision. The violet-haired MS pilot let out a long breath, "You know, I was right when I told Cykes that even though Cross is our team leader, you're the one – and not our superiors back in High Command – calling the shots," and Ayanes's face became a mirror image of Tiffa's, smirk and all, "And this can only mean one thing: you've shown him just **how** good you are when you're on top."

Tiffa's lips curved in a playful grin, "You have no idea, Ayanes."

Ayanes exploded in laughter, before she headed to the dispensers to get herself a cup of hot tea, "You know, this will mean that those other girls who are hoping to take your place are not going to be happy that you beat them to third and fourth base."

"They'll get over it," Tiffa replied, "But I need your opinion on certain... matters."

Indeed, Ayanes thought as she sat back down, this was going to take a while. She hoped they would be in time for Helena's concert in the evening.

"Well," the violet-haired girl said, sipping her drink, "let's hear it..."

**(O)**

It had taken Cross and Angel some time before they found what the first had been searching for, only to discover that the item was more expensive than he had originally thought. Angel did not hesitate in lending him the required amount, an act that left Cross grateful. As they sat down in a cafe to rest, Angel asked her brown-haired companion why he had needed a Media Data-Stream Converter so badly. Cross sipped his drink before replying, "I needed this," he tapped the plastic bag that rested on the table, "to convert some of the media files on my computer to HQDM (4). Doing so will allow the Symphonic Editor Program to isolate the types of instruments used in the song and map out the scores. From there, a program of my devising will help beginners learn how to play those instruments – in minutes."

"In minutes...?" Angel was surprised, "How is that possible?"

"Trade secret," Cross grinned, and held up his hand when he saw an annoyed look on Angel's face, "Like I said earlier, it's a custom program I created on the fly. I'm surprised the thing worked, considering the fact that I rushed the job."

"How does it work?"

"It would take me hours to explain and cause you a terrible headache. The last person I explained its functions to ended up with a migraine," Cross said apologetically, "And besides, it would be poor manners on my part if I gave you one – especially as you've taken time off your schedule to help me. Regardless, with this," he tapped the bag again, "my problems are at an end. Oh, one more thing, will you be free tonight?"

"Why?" 

"There is a concert being held at Symphonia's Rising Light Concert Hall in sector 12-A at 2100 hours. My friends and I are taking part. I would appreciate it if you would come. You get to see the results of our search."

Angel considered it, before declining. Cross smiled, and shrugged, "Nonetheless, try to, all the same. Now, I'd better go look for those two apes before they start a riot. Three hours have passed without my supervision, and that is three hours too long. Odds are, they're already in jail and waiting for me to bail them out – again."

Angel laughed at the woebegone expression on Cross's face. The expression brought back bittersweet memories etched deep into her soul, of a time of innocence long gone. It took a while for the red-haired EA pilot to stifle her chuckles enough for her to speak, "Good luck. I think you'll need it."

"Miss Angel, I could have the Chinese God of Fortune's stash of luck, and it still wouldn't be enough when it comes to those two monkeys in human form!"

Angel choked back her giggles, even as Cross rolled his eyes, grinned and strode off. The red-haired pilot of the Avenger Phoenix leaned back in her chair. How she wished they had more time to talk, but he had made it quite clear that he had to ensure that his companions did not start something in his absence. She drew in a deep breath, remembering Cross's invitation. There was still a chance. Finishing her drink, Angel stood up and headed for the boutiques that were bountiful in the mall across the street.

Neither she nor Cross had been aware that for the entire time they had been together, a pair of unseen eyes watched them.

**(O)**

Had Cross and Angel come face-to-face with their watcher, both would have been surprised by the likeness the last had to the first. But, where Cross's amethyst eyes were warm and kind, his counterpart held the potential for insatiable violence in his. The man sniffed in disdain as he looked at his twin leave the area, before turning his attention to the red-haired girl that the latter had left behind. How could these two be important to what his masters were planning? He knew the strengths and weaknesses of his twin, as well as his place in the scheme of things, but the red-haired girl that had been his companion was an enigma. The man knew her: Angel Allster –formerly Fllay Allster, daughter of the late EA Undersecretary George Allster - and pilot of the Animus-class Avenger Phoenix Gundam. Her skills were respectable, but what other abilities did she possess that had aroused the interest of his superiors? Could she be a candidate for Operation Harvest?

There was a high possibility that she was. There was no way his compatriots would have left a pilot of Angel's calibre alone, especially if one took into account her past and her motivations for joining the Earth Forces. She would rise far in the Legions, given time. The man leaned against the railing, watching the people below go about their business. People had come far and wide – some even from beyond the Earth Sphere – to attend the Concert that would take place within the next two days. The revered, lovely songstress of PLANT, Lacus Clyne, and numerous other media celebrities would be performing at the concert to honour those who had fallen during the Bloody Valentine War. Many important officials would be amongst the thousands who would be in attendance, making it a perfect opportunity to strike them down. Even now, several kill-teams were taking their positions and waiting for the signal to mount the attack. The man drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. How long was his comrade going to take? It had been more than three hours! What had been in that report that had warranted her personal attention, anyway?

"How's the view?"

The man looked over his shoulder to find his companion standing behind him. He saw many people – men and women of various ages – staring at her with expressions ranging from lust to awe. And who could blame them. Ko Shiatar, the Unforgiving Raven, was a beautiful woman. And he **would** know. The Beast in him purred at the sight of her; it remembered the woman's touch and fierce passion, and yearned for more. The curves of her lithe, strong body was emphasised by the figure-hugging, gold-lined, dark purple bodysuit she wore. A segment of it had been removed at the torso, revealing the lush curve of her full breasts. Black leather leggings, sleeveless coat and high-heeled boots completed the female mercenary's attire – all of which were adorned with crosses and thunderbolts.

"Disappointing," the man replied, turning back to look at the crowds milling below, "There's nothing special about her."

'_If that is so,'_ a voice in the man's soul whispered softly, _'then why did your heart beat as though it were about to burst when you laid eyes on her? Why did it ache so? You know her...just like you know the songstress of PLANT.'_

'_Impossible,_' the man fired back, _'They mean nothing to me.' _

'_Ah, Griever,'_ the treacherous voice whispered before fading away, _'That is where you're wrong. They mean __**everything**__ to the person you want to be. The Legacy is more than just a reward.' _

"Griever...? Are you all right?" Ko Shiatar asked.

The man nodded, "What were you saying? My mind was elsewhere."

The female mercenary sniffed, "I was saying that one should always be prepared for the unexpected. And, no doubt you are curious about why I rushed off to meet our agent hours ago, aren't you? Well, what I just learnt something interesting about our mutual acquaintance – something that actually surprised me."

The tone in Ko Shiatar's voice made Griever turn.

"You know his lover?"

"Yes, I do. Tiffa Ayanami, the Azure Pegasus of ZAFT, and second-in-command of the ZAFT Constellation Team Leo," Griever replied, "What about her...?"

"Well," the Unforgiving Raven said, pulling out a small holo-graphic palm top, "she had just done a bio-scan on her today. Give me a moment...Ah, here it is. See for yourself."

Griever took the small palm-top from the female mercenary. It did not take him long to understand what he was looking at, and a look of fury crossed his face, "This...this is impossible! We were told that until the decision was made, this event was not to take place. It **cannot** take place! It is not possible for either of us to sire children!"

Ko Shiatar quickly snatched back her palm-top, "I've seen the results of the scan myself. It was done three times so the chances of it being an error are low. And before you ask, yes, all three impossibilities were confirmed."

Griever knew the first two, but it was out of morbid curiosity that he asked for the answers to questions he already knew.

"She is. He is. And it's a girl."

The steel railing in Griever's hands twisted under his inhuman strength. Ko Shiatar saw the hatred Griever had for his twin reach new heights, and wondered if telling him about Tiffa's pregnancy had been the right thing to do. No, it was inevitable. The agent's report would have reached Griever's desk eventually, and there was no doubt that the latter would have taken matters into his own hands and brought the wrath of the Inner Circle crashing down on both their heads.

"Nonetheless, this has to be reported back to our masters. Our objectives in Neo-Stratos **will** change once they hear of this," the Unforgiving Raven spoke, "It seems that we have to prepare for something far messier than stealing the Earth Sphere's newest Gundam prototypes."

"To Hell with the mission," Griever snarled, "Our first priority is to destroy him! Him – and those who gave him life! It is bad enough to know that he has just as much right to the Legacy as I, but the fact that he, even though an incomplete imitation of the one we were created from, can sire children is intolerable! I will make sure he does not...!"

Ko Shiatar seized the collar of her companion's fur-lined jacket, cutting him off. Her crimson eyes, now filled with fury, silenced him, "Would you want to speak with our masters' appointed representative, perhaps, Griever? Do you want to face _**him**_? Let me assure you this much: if you disobey him, not only will you forfeit your right to the Legacy and cause our masters' plans to fall in flames, you will sign both our death warrants. You may be mighty, Griever Bloodbane, though you are but a shadow of the glory that is your birthright. Once you ascend and claim the Legacy, you will be a demigod," and the Unforgiving Raven threw him against the nearby pillar with a flick of her wrist, "But remember this: even if you claim the Legacy, you are **nothing** compared to our masters' emissary."

People around the Unforgiving Raven and Griever stared at the two warily. The tension and rage was palpable.

"I won't stop you from doing what you wish, but taking action now would be unwise. And besides, did you not swear that you will kill him in a fair fight?" Ko Shiatar added softly, "You must earn the Legacy in a manner that is not seen as underhanded, lest you lose the respect of those you will eventually command. And trust me, you don't want that."

Griever took several deep breaths to regain his composure, "You're right. That is the way it must be done."

The Unforgiving Raven smiled briefly, "Now that you've regained your capacity to think clearly, why don't you go pay your twin a little visit? Let him see the face of the one who will eventually win the Legacy. Let him know that he cannot stop what is to come."

Griever liked the idea, "Why not? Update me on how the mission will change."

"Understood," the Unforgiving Raven said as her companion departed. Ko Shiatar let out a sigh of relief. Cross Lionheart, she swore, was less troublesome than her companion. Ayanami Tiffa had it made. The Azure Pegasus's lover (and the father of her child) was nothing like his counterpart. Even the way they fought revealed just how different they were. Cross Lionheart fought with ruthless precision, basing his tactics on defensive strategies bordering on prescience, while Griever crushed his enemies with surgical strikes that left his enemies unable to defend themselves. That is, if there was anyone left capable of defending themselves in the first place. It made the Unforgiving Raven nervous to imagine the devastation Cross and Griever would leave in their wake even before their day of reckoning. A day her masters had commanded she make possible.

Ko Shiatar closed her eyes. She should have killed Cross Lionheart two years ago. It would have spared him the knowledge that the impending holocaust that would soon engulf the Earth Sphere was his fault. But, it didn't matter now. Nothing she did would matter. The powers-that-be have willed that the Earth Sphere burn – and burn it will. But, this new development would give them pause. As Griever had pointed out earlier, neither he nor his twin could sire children.

'_I doubt that even you, Doctor Hibiki,' _Ko Shiatar thought as she reached into her coat for her cell-phone, _'will be able to give our masters a satisfactory answers. But, I'd better get one ready. Tonight, Cross and Griever will meet face-to-face for the first time. I hope he doesn't act rashly.'_

She hit a series of numbers, and a voice belonging to her contact in the Genesis's Light faction (5) answered, "Is that you, Raven?"

"It is," Ko Shiatar said, "Tell the CO that everything is going according to plan."

"Understood," the Genesis's Light agent said. The Unforgiving Raven terminated the call after receiving the confirmation. No need for the faction to know more than they should. She drew in a deep breath, before punching in a new set of numbers, this one linking up to the agents of the masters she and Griever served. They were not on the colony itself, but their agents within it had set up a communications array within weeks of their arrival on Neo-Stratos that would allow her to speak to them in person. The familiar, harsh static that bespoke of the advanced jamming and counter-measures the agents had put in place crackled as the array sought to establish communications with the cloaked ships without revealing their presence to the numerous patrol ships that circled the colony.

As she waited, her mind went back to the conversation she had had with the man who had been responsible for all that had happened – and all that would happen. She was reminded why she disliked the man; here, standing before her, was a fool with enough hubris to humble Lucifer herself. He had sacrificed his son once, close to two decades ago, on the altar of science to reach for the highest apple; he had watched, unwilling to help, as that same son reluctantly – and finally, willingly – fight to protect the inhabitants of the Earth Sphere, the latter's last breath the impetus that had led to the creation of the SENTINEL faction and the breaking of the hearts of those who loved him. And now, that same foolish, arrogant man would use his son as a pawn in a game meant for demigods.

'_You are a fool, Dr. Hibiki, if you think your son will do as you ask – or that our masters will let you do as you please. You will never see your son again, doctor. At least, not in the way you remember him. The young boy who rode out to end a war and whose name is a cherished thing in the hearts and memories of those who loved him is gone. And that,' _the Unforgiving Raven sidestepped a pair of laughing children nimbly, chuckling as she did so, _'is the best case scenario. The worst case scenario, I think you can predict. Your son will be the reincarnation of the Bloody Angel himself...and he will turn that fury on you without a moment's hesitation.'_

The line finally connected, and a masculine voice spoke, "I am here, Lady Shiatar. What is your will?"

**(O)**

'_So, this is the concert hall he told me about. It's beautiful,' _Natarle thought as she exited the auto-cab. The Symphonia's Rising Light Concert Hall was a well-constructed replica of the old Imperial Theatre that had once stood in Washington, D.C, America, prior to its destruction centuries ago during the Third Euro-American War. Its distinctive Greco-Roman architecture gave it a refined air that was at odds with the lively atmosphere that shrouded the colony's arts district. Banners and posters informed those interested of the events that were held within its premises. Natarle looked down at the ticket once more, before her eyes went to the banner indicating the event held within the Hall indicated on her ticket.

Phoenix Hall (6) was the venue of an audition that was hosted by some of the most renowned companies in the music industry. It was clear that despite it being called an audition, that it was the final test of those who had made it this far. Symphonia's Rising Light Concert Hall welcomed only the best into its halls – and some of those were, even now, holding performances of their own. She recognized the faces of Mizuho Koyomi, the famous Japanese pop-star idol, as well as that of Maria Hunter, her American country-music counterpart. Natarle chuckled; tonight promised to be an interesting night.

The female commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ took a moment to study her clothes. She had been surprised that the designer and his team had managed to complete her request in so short a time, but what had startled her even more was how well it fit her. The ensemble was something that would not look out of place on a celebrity, but there was something about the dress's cut and design that had appealed to both the soldier and the woman in her. Cut high and low enough to turn heads, yet not so much as to take away the regal air it conveyed, the one-piece, sleeveless dress was made of a soft, dark blue fabric of a hue that reminded Natarle of twilight, the few buttons that held it together made of cast silver (she was surprised when she realized what it was) and its edges lined in gold. Vine-like scrollwork in silver thread at the collar, the lower hem of the dress and the long gloves Natarle wore reinforced the regal air its designers had hoped the dress would confer upon its wearer.

And if the looks the dark-haired commander was getting were any indication, her dress's designers would be hounded down by the awed and envious women who unconsciously parted before her as she made her way to the Phoenix Hall. Natarle did not care for the attention, either way. She was here for one reason and one reason only: to find out if Cross Lionheart was who he (or more accurately, the reports about him) says he is. The dark-haired commander froze when she heard her name being called. At first, she thought it was her mind playing tricks on her, but when she heard her name being called a second time, she turned about to see who the person was.

Her eyes widened. Walking towards her was Angel, clad in an outfit that made the envious looks around the two women worse and the jaws of the men surrounding them to drop in the vicinity of their ankles. So, Natarle smiled, this was the reason why the red-haired pilot had cancelled their appointment earlier – she had gone shopping for clothes! Angel's one-piece ensemble was bare-backed, allowing everyone to see the beautiful tattoo of her flaming wings, and was cut low enough to reveal her cleavage, and the slit on the skirt's side reaching all the way to her hips, revealing much of her long, athletic legs. The design of the dress was exquisite: the black of Angel's dress contrasted with the silver scrollwork that took the shape of a double-headed eagle superimposed over a sunburst of gold and the silver, bird-like sigil over her chest (7). Like Natarle, Angel had a white sash tied around her hips and wore high-heeled shoes.

Angel, likewise, was amazed at what she saw. No wonder she had almost failed to recognize her friend! In all the two years she had known Natarle, this was the first time the former had seen the latter in a dress as lovely as the one she now wore. While there was no doubt in Angel's mind that the dark-haired commander had formal clothes in her wardrobe, none of them (at least from what she could guess) was as elegant as the one she now wore.

"You look beautiful, Angel," Natarle said, breaking the red-haired pilot out of her inspection of her, "And that dress of yours must have been expensive. Who are you meeting?"

Angel chuckled, taking the light-hearted jab in stride, "Stop stealing my lines, Natarle. And yes, the dress was expensive. But honestly, this is the **first** time I've seen you dress like this. If I didn't know better, I would have thought you one of the many celebrities – or at least, the wife of one – who had come to Neo-Stratos for the Memorial Concert."

"I like to think that there are times when we can be who we really are instead of what others want us to be," Natarle said, "But, that aside, I'm curious to know where you found that dress. Is it from one of the high-end boutiques in the shopping district?"

Angel nodded, "It is. I got it from the Ruby Star boutique."

"The Ruby Star...?" Natarle raised an eyebrow, "Angel, that's the one..."

"Yes, I know," Angel replied, the smile on her face smug, "What they sell there is enough to cut through ten months' worth of pay for an Army lieutenant, but it wasn't a problem for me. If I told you how much money I had in my account, you'd probably faint. And besides...if the looks we've been getting from the male half of the population for the few minutes are any indication, I think it's safe to say that this was a sound investment."

"The colony's clinics are going to see more customers than usual tomorrow," Natarle replied, "And most of them will be suffering from a severe case of whiplash."

The mental image that took shape in their minds caused both women to laugh, before the older of the two led the younger in. As they took their seats, both gave their reasons for their presence at the Concert Hall. It surprised both that they were here by invitation. But by whom, both did not say. Angel did not ask as she had no wish to pry. Natarle, for her part, would only tell her the reasons why later on. Her earlier reaction when asked if she was meeting someone told Natarle that Angel was taking the first step to leaving her past behind. He must have made quite an impression, the dark-haired commander thought as she leaned back into her chair and waited for the show to begin.

**X X X**

The moment Natarle and Fllay walked into the Phoenix Hall, two individuals amongst the multitude who had watched the two women disappear from sight let out a sigh of disappointment. Looking at two beautiful women was, in their minds, more than enough to make them forget that they were being forced to wear tuxedos by their commanding officer. The larger of the two fidgeted, tugging at his collar, complaining loudly that he would sooner do latrine duty than wear it a second longer. He was not aware that the person that had made both him and his friend look like penguins was standing right behind them.

"We are not in a bar or a nightclub, Raijin," the man said, causing the two whose backs were to him to jump, "I give you one of two choices: either you wear the tux tonight, or I put you back in the jail cell I bailed your sorry asses out of – and tender the officer on duty my sincerest apologies and the request that he throws away the key where no one will ever find it!"

"Chill, boss," the smaller, red-haired man said, "We're sorry and grateful that you managed to patch our mess up, but is it too much to ask if we watch the show from the backstage? Raijin and I feel **stupid** in these things!"

"No amount of complaining is going to get you or Raijin out of those suits any faster, Cykes," Cross Lionheart replied, "First of all, we all promised to come to the concert in our best – and we will act like gentlemen while we're at it. You start something and I swear to God the both of you will see why I choose to punish you myself instead of letting Sheila do it for me!"

Cykes and Raijin gulped. Every time the captain of the _Enuma-Elish_ got wind of their antics, she would give them an unnerving smile that reminded them of an insane murderer with a chainsaw. No power above or below Heaven would save them if their squadron commander decided to leave them to the ship commander's tender mercies. But, despite being young and brash – and knowing that their commander would not throw them to the wolves – the two had no wish to call their flight leader's bluff.

"At least," Raijin said, "this will be **way** better than sitting through that meeting with the top brass months ago, right?"

"You've a point there," Cykes replied, "That meeting was beyond pointless. I almost fell asleep hearing the pencil-pushers argue over the finer details of this clause and that point. **That** was pure torture."

"I know," Cross said, looking at his watch, "And I knew ahead of time how dull the meeting was going to be for all of us. The main reason why I had us attend was to use the meeting as a training session to improve our mental endurance. But, more to the point, it was primarily an exercise on how to stay awake and alert when we are unable to do anything but sit still."

Cykes and Raijin stared at their commander, speechless. It was only a few seconds later that the second reacted and grabbed the last by his collar, "You mean you meant for us to go through that hell? You PLANNED it?!"

"Of course," Cross smirked, "It was payback for when the lot of you decided to put chilli pepper in my breakfast omelette and spike my drink. You nearly turned me into humanity's first living blowtorch with that prank. If you had tampered with the mess hall's sink..."

Cykes started laughing, remembering how much water went down his commander's throat as he tried to extinguish the inferno that had almost blasted his tongue to cinders, "I've heard about water retention, boss, but you took it to a whole new level."

Raijin dropped his head in defeat and let go of Cross's collar. If he misbehaved today, a date with the stern captain of the _Enuma-Elish_ was a near-guarantee – Cross would see that fearsome threat through. He could survive Cross's punishments; he had no wish to find out if he would survive Sheila D'Avenant's. And Cykes had a point: Helena's concert was an event worth attending. Speaking of which...

"So what do we do now? I mean, we're here early like we said, and the girls haven't shown up yet? What gives?"

Cross looked at his watch once more. It was 8:45 p.m. He smiled, "The girls should be here by now. Odds are that they're probably with Helena in the dressing room, giving her a pep talk before she goes on-stage. She's gonna have a lot of competitors tonight, so it stands to reason that she's nervous. You two wait here while I go get them."

The brown-haired commander of the Steel Angels turned to face his two subordinates after the third step, "And no shenanigans while I'm gone. I have a tazer on me and I will not hesitate to use it if you misbehave. Are we clear?"

Cykes and Raijin swallowed hard, before raising their right hands in unison and swearing to behave. Cross, for his part, knew better than to trust them. He knew that the fingers of their left hands were crossed behind their backs. The brown-haired commander sighed; he hoped the two could behave themselves for five minutes while he got Tiffa and Ayanes. Once Cross was out of sight, the innocent look on Cykes face gave way to an evil grin. Raijin smirked and looked at his smaller friend, his expression voicing the unasked question of what manner of mischief they could pull while their commander's back was turned. Cykes reached into his tuxedo's pocket and pulled out a big handful of rubber bands. Raijin's smirk became a grin.

"Rubber Band Sniper...?" the big man asked.

"Rubber Band Sniper," Cykes affirmed, "Winner gets twenty. One point if the target reacts, none if they do not, and minus five points if they find out you shot him or her."

"You're on," Raijin replied as the two of them walked into the Phoenix Hall, looking for the stairwells that led up to the box seats in the concert hall – the perfect vantage point for the game. As the hall was currently being filled up by unsuspecting patrons, it was the perfect time to play this particular game.

**X X X**

Helena looked over her song-sheet while her two friends finished touching up their newly-purchased dresses. Though she had a calm exterior, the lovely, white-haired pilot was nervous. She knew that her team-mates and many of the _Enuma-Elish_'s crew would be in attendance to hear her sing. Even the fact that her commander and friend would be going on-stage with her to replace the guitarist that Raijin and Cykes had accidentally put out of commission was not enough to lessen her nervousness.

When she had memorised the three songs she was going to sing before the judges memorized, she set the song-sheets down with a deep sigh. The last song that she had committed to memory was troublesome; that one had been a last minute change, one that had caused no end of trouble both to Cross and the other musicians. No doubt, the latter were going through their scores to ensure they did not make a mess of things.

"You nervous...?" Ayanes asked as she finished fixing up her dress. Helena turned around to see the dress that her violet-haired friend had bought and made alterations to was worth the price the latter had paid for it. The dress gave Ayanes a playful, but predatory, air that was captivating.

"Nervous?" Helena asked, "I think it is more accurate to say that I am on the verge of a nervous-breakdown. I had dreamt about this day for a long time and now that it is, I can't seem to pull myself together."

"Take it easy, girl. We all know that Cross wouldn't have gone through all that trouble unless he knew you could deliver," Ayanes put a hand on her friend's shoulder, "And trust me, you can. And you will."

"Deliver, huh? Easier said than done..."

Ayanes clucked her tongue, "You're not listening, girl. Cross and the rest don't want to see you give it your all. They came to see you give it your heart and soul. And before you ask, yes, there is a big difference between the two."

Helena looked at Ayanes with a puzzled expression, "And what would that be? When a singer goes on stage, they always give it their all in each performance. What would make me any different?"

"Because the effort they give isn't genuine. What they give their adoring fans," Ayanes chuckled at that, "is nothing more than a routine – and one I admit – perfected by rehearsals. In the end, going to their performances is no different than buying their albums once it's released. You're a real singer, Helena. Even our compatriots in the other Teams agree. Those who call themselves singers, whom you no doubt can name by the dozen, are nothing more than performers wearing fancy clothes and who adhere to a script. I would name Lacus Clyne as an example, but her role in the Bloody Valentine War puts her out of the category."

"Indeed," Tiffa added, "But only be a paper-thin margin."

Ayanes and Tiffa turned about, and their eyes widened. The depth of her neckline and the height of the slit openings would have left any man with a severe nosebleed, and subject to the wrath of their (female) companions. Her deep blue hair contrasted with the maroon, gold-lined dress that served only to lend that wild, untameable air she sought to exude. Long, crimson opera gloves completed the ensemble.

"Damn, Tiffa. Seeing you in that makes it hard to believe that you're a professional soldier," Ayanes whistled, "I bet that when Cross sees you, he would either get a nose bleed – or excuse himself while he steps outside to cool off."

"Nah. If there is one thing I know about Cross, it's that he can keep his composure a lot easier now than when I first met him. But truth be told, I would love to see him blush again. That would be the only time the cat runs away with his tongue, and he can't catch it in time," Tiffa chuckled, as she did a practice twirl she would use on her lover when they met later.

Ayanes and Helena exchanged disbelieving looks. Cross, blush and stammer like a schoolboy? Now that **was** a sight worth seeing. And knowing the relationship between the Tiffa and Cross, it was unlikely that the former was lying. Ayanes winked playfully at Tiffa, the gesture clear to the latter that the former knew that she had done more than simply make him blush and stammer. Helena giggled at the image that had taken shape in her mind; it was adorable.

"Thanks a lot, you two..." Helena said finally, "I needed that. Honestly, I was worried about how I would sound when it was my turn to sing."

"If that's all you're worried about," a voice spoke out, making the three girls turn in the direction of the speaker, "then it's safe to say you're ready for your time in the lime-light."

Cross stood in the doorway. How long had he been standing there, all three girls wondered. It took them only an instant later to realize that their commander was dressed in the tuxedo and trousers, a dashing sight compared to what he usually wore. His long, dark brown hair was combed and tied into a ponytail, though his bangs still overshadowed his warm, amethyst eyes. Tiffa saw that Cross had his hands in his coat pockets and surmised that the latter was still wearing his fighting gloves; he never took them off unless he went to bed or was in the shower. She sighed in relief: Cross's katana was nowhere in sight. That ancient sword and its owner were near inseparable, and having to convince the latter to leave it behind had been a headache.

"What are you doing here?" Helena asked.

"Raijin and Cykes were starting to get on my nerves with their asking when your turn would come," Cross stepped into the dressing room.

"I'm fourth in line," Helena replied, "And a good thing, too. It gave me a chance," she nodded thankfully to Ayanes and Tiffa, "to mentally prepare myself. And besides, both of them needed a room to change in."

"I suppose I won't have to wait long to see if Raijin and Cykes have kept their promise to not misbehave," Cross smirked, "I'd better call Sheila and inform her beforehand that I'm giving her the right to have those two clean the _Enuma-Elish_'s hullwith toothbrushes."

All three women sweat-dropped at the devilish smirk on Cross's face.

"That's...cruel, Cross," Helena said, "They'll jump ship and never come back when they hear what you have planned for them..."

"Indeed," Tiffa said, and her eyes narrowed as she realized something, "And if I didn't know you any better, you have a tazer or a tranquilizer gun hidden somewhere in your coat to make sure they pay their dues, correct?"

Cross gave them an innocent smile, but the scowling looks all three women threw him made him realize that they were not buying into his act. Before they could admonish him on his methods, Cross quickly wrong-footed them by complimenting all three girls on how beautiful they looked in their new dresses. It worked, especially when he told Ayanes that Cykes would have to reattach his jaw the moment he saw her. Ayanes would never pass up a chance to make the red-haired youth blush – and it was something that was happening with increasing regularity, especially whenever the violet-haired girl was around. Tiffa had told him once, over pizza, that the two of them were developing feelings for each other. Cross agreed with her, but added that one of them needed to make the first move. He grinned inwardly; if it did, he would see Cykes turn into a blubbering fool.

He turned to look at Tiffa, and Cross felt his lips turn dry. Tiffa grinned at the awed look in her lover's eyes. She twirled before him, "How do you like it?"

"You're...beautiful..." he whispered. Tiffa moved gracefully, putting her gloved arms around her man, and kissed him, an act that made Helena and Ayanes blush.

"Good answer, boya," Tiffa said as she withdrew, "Simple, but good. Now," and she took a step back, "You came to tell us where our seats were?"

Cross told his lover the location of their seats, and what Cykes and Raijin would most likely be doing while his back was turned. He knew that, between the two girls, he would not have to resort to handing them over to a fate worse than death. Ayanes pulled Tiffa along with her, intending to give Helena and Cross a brief moment of privacy. It was clear that the former had something to say to the latter.

"Watch me take to the skies."

Cross smiled, "I will. And don't worry. You have nothing to worry about. I'll be on stage with you, after all. If you trip, you're going to drop twenty (8) in front of everyone."

Helena laughed at that. But before Cross could leave to prepare himself for the role he was to play, the white-haired girl stopped him. One slender hand wrapped around his with the incredible strength that only Coordinators could have, and raised it high enough so she could remove the glove he wore, to reveal the scar on his palm that was a memento of the time she tried to commit suicide. Cross saw the look on Helena's face, saw the questions and the reasons behind the asking.

"After all this time," Helena asked, her voice soft, "why do you still keep this scar? There is no reason for you to not have it removed."

"True," Cross replied, "but had I not paid heed to my gut instinct telling me that something was very wrong with you, you would now be resting next to the very people who wanted, more than anything else, for you to defend the peace they would never live to see – and to teach those who think war glorious that it is not. And, you've been part of the Steel Angels for almost two years, Helena. You know the reasons why I saved you."

Helena was silent for the better half of a minute, trying to fight back a suspicion she could not help but voice, "Sometimes, Cross, I wonder if you are simply using me for your own personal gains and if you use this scar as a chain with which to bind me."

Cross flinched upon hearing those words. Unintentional or not, she was justified in voicing out her doubts. The brown-haired commander of the Steel Angels smiled, "I do not blame you for not trusting me; you have every right not to. In a way, I am using you to my own ends. But before you find me wanting and choose to leave the Angels, hear me out. When I first saw you, I did not know who you were and what you did. The only thing that mattered to me was to learn the name of that sad, broken girl who wanted to die.

"And I listened to her. I knew why she wanted to die. And I didn't want her to. Dying is easy; it's living that's hard – doubly so when we are living with blood on our hands. I will be honest, Helena: there are times when I wished you had rejected my offer. Fighting to keep the peace is no less bloody than when we are fighting to win a war."

Emerald eyes met amethyst ones: "Then why have me on your team at all?"

"I think the better question is why did you choose to stay? I'm not you, but I think I can guess what the answer might be."

Helena raised one eyebrow, "And what would that be?"

"I told you before: tomorrow will be better than today. And when that day comes, all the pain, guilt, regret and sorrow will fade before the light of the rising sun," Cross smiled briefly, "One cannot bring one's loved ones back from the grave, and it is difficult to find the strength to love again. The only thing they can do under such circumstances is to take one day at a time, one step at a time; those with friends and family soon find that they are not alone, that the burden is shared by all who have earned their trust in the ways that matter. Everyone in the Steel Angels – myself included – cares for you."

"Just like a family?" Helena's eyes were reaching out for that which had been taken away. Cross saw right there and then that his answer would either give her strength, or break her in ways that death and defeat could not.

"Just like a family," Cross said with a laugh, "Though I'd warn you that ours is a carbon copy of a Tom and Jerry cartoon – except that it has a penchant for picking fights with dogs and coming home black, blue and drunk."

Helena's emerald eyes became alight with joy. She hugged Cross in a fashion that almost squeezed the air from his lungs. The latter had long known that the white-haired girl was a Coordinator, but of which generation he wasn't sure. His rough guess was that Helena was a third-generation Coordinator; the incredible strength (among other things) she possessed was beyond that of the second-generation Coordinators.

"I'm dying, Helena..." Cross gasped out, tapping Helena's back repeatedly. The girl quickly released Cross with a strangled squeak, allowing the latter to get air back into his grateful lungs. Clearly, she had forgotten the times she had successfully (and easily) tossed the much larger Raijin across the room when they sparred. The larger man had told Cross that Helena was easily one of the strongest girls he knew. A rude awakening waited for those who judged this particular book by its cover.

"When you get a boyfriend, Helena," Cross grinned playfully, "please introduce him to all of us. We want to meet the man who managed not only to win your heart, but who has managed to avoid being sent to hospital on a regular basis."

Helena pouted, but her eyes were twinkling. Cross chuckled, and glanced briefly at the clock hanging on the wall. There was enough time for him to go through his scores before Helena was called onto the stage.

"We'd both better get ready, Helena," Cross said as he turned to leave, "But before I go, I have one last question to ask."

"That is?"

"Do you remember the day when I asked you for your call-sign?"

Helena nodded. It had taken her a week of careful thought before she finally settled on one – and it was one inspired by one of the novels Ayanes had lent her. It was an old one, written by Sylvia Thompson in the years prior to the fall of the Imperial Dominion. It had been one of her last works before a new Dark Age plunged an entire region of space into a new Dark Age that lasted three centuries. The story had been simple, its characters memorable, and the morals within enduring. The image of a beautiful girl, with blue hair and grey eyes, standing across a brown-haired boy who had been both friend and rival till a terrorist attack took the former away from the latter took shape in her mind; her words to him both oath and challenge.

"_**Like the hawk, I shall circle over you. Through sun and storm, I shall be by your side. No enemy under the sun and stars shall lay you low, so fear not. If you are the sword, then I am your shield. If you are courage, then I am faith. If you are the moon, then I shall be the sea."**_

Cross smiled upon seeing the confidence on the white-haired girl's face, "Today is the night you take flight, Starlight Hawk. Tonight, sing for your family."

Helena nodded and strode past him, heading for the small waiting area behind the stage. Tonight promised to be a good night. He rubbed a hand over his cybernetic implant. Not only did it allow him to interface directly with his MS, it allowed him to store a considerable amount of data within his mind. Such cybernetic enhancements had led Cross to do so some research; he came across references to individuals called Artificers, who were the master engineers and chief researchers of the human hegemonies centuries before. One of their basic upgrades had been a memory-storage implant, and another had been the Accessible-Execution Implant (AEI) (9). The first allowed the Artificer to store vast amounts of information. The second allowed the master engineer to utilize it: it was particularly useful if the Artificer was to serve in whatever role he or she was tasked with. Cross's eyes narrowed, remembering what else his research had unearthed: the same implants could be used by planetary authorities to enforce social order and warlords to possess a legion that was incapable of betraying them. It was a potent system of control, Cross thought, and one without side-effects.

The brown-haired commander of the Steel Angels let out a long breath. Regardless of who had grafted the cybernetic implant into him, he had to admit that it has proven its worth more than once. And in this particular instance, it had ensured that he would be able to take the place of the guitarist that Raijin and Cykes had put out of commission. Upon closing his eyes, and opening the neural interfaces, he saw the music scores he had downloaded from his laptop behind his eyelids and his body move naturally to bring it into being. It was a good thing he was not the one singing; his cybernetic enhancements did not extend as far as to be able to alter his voice. He pulled the glove Helena had removed back on, hoping that Ayanes and Tiffa had managed to bring Raijin and Cykes under control: he had no wish to drag two corpses out of the Phoenix Hall into a waiting taxi, looking like a triumphant devil about to bring two souls into perdition. The mental image of him doing so made him laugh.

"Interesting," a cold voice made Cross turn about, "on how you can still laugh when you know you really have nothing to laugh about."

Leaning against the entrance to Helena's dressing room was a man clad in a fur-lined leather jacket, his lean frame radiating power and hostile intent. Cross felt himself tense without knowing the reason why. Whoever this person was, he was dangerous. The fact that the latter had managed to enter the room without Cross sensing it had only reinforced what his body already knew. But, what unnerved Cross the most was the fact he felt as if he were looking into a darker, more malevolent, reflection of himself. While the hair of the other was shorter, there was no doubt in the angles of his face and the intensity of their amethyst eyes that they were cut from the same cloth and born from the same mould.

"I usually laugh when I have good reason to," Cross replied coolly, "But I can tell I offended you by doing so."

"A man without a past, and whose present is built on lies really has very little to be happy about," the man said, the words causing Cross's eyes to narrow, "But then again, Cross Lionheart, you've proven yourself to be a most unpredictable individual."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Griever Bloodbane," the man said as he pushed himself off the wall to stand before Cross, his amethyst eyes meeting Cross's own, "I've been waiting a long time to meet you face-to-face but, now that it's come to pass, I really have no idea what to say to you."

"How about you answer a question first, Griever? I've made no effort to hide myself, so why is it only now that you've decided to speak to me in person?"

"Because now is the only time we will be able to meet face-to-face without coming to blows. You probably are not aware of this, but you and I have many things in common," Griever's eyes sharpened, "Or so they say, but I know the real truth."

The venomous hatred in Griever's voice would have twisted steel, a clear sign that the person before Cross saw him as a threat – but to what, he did not know.

"What 'truth' is that, Griever?"

"That you took everything that is rightfully mine. I've been viewed as a reject who should never have been born when the truth of the matter is that you are the one that should not have been!" Griever snarled.

"And what was it that I took from you? I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about; accusing someone of a crime without evidence and who has no motivation to commit it is somewhat...rash," Cross replied calmly. Griever flinched, his clenched fists cracking in warning. Cross raised an eyebrow; if this Griever – if that was even his real name – wanted a fight, he would not find him lacking. And, amazingly, the latter backed down.

"No, not yet," Griever said, after letting out a long breath, "Not here. We will settle our feud in the only way that matters: on the battlefield. There, you will learn the truth of who you really are. Think of this time as a brief glimpse of what is to come!" and a _wakizashi _came slicing towards Cross's neck. The Steel Angel commander stepped in swiftly and caught Griever's arm, never realizing that the latter's free arm held a dagger. The former froze upon feeling the weapon bite into his flesh; it was a minor cut, but it had cut deep enough to stain the white shirt he wore beneath his tuxedo crimson. Cross narrowed his gaze, glaring into his twin's eyes.

"Just as I thought," Griever smirked as he leapt back, flicking the dagger to clear it of the blood, "I had to train hard, Lionheart, to reach this level of proficiency; a level, they tell me, that you possessed the day you opened your eyes. I am more like him than you could ever hope to be. But, to be honest, he did not really use the gifts given to him until he was forced to – just like you. All will be settled, Cross Lionheart. Soon, no one, not you or they, will have the audacity to say that you deserve the Legacy more than I."

Cross was stunned by how easily Griever had defeated him. The speed and fighting technique of the latter was astounding, bespeaking of their refinement in an arena that had no place for second best. Not wishing to show that he was shaken by the display, Cross turned about with a nonchalant shrug, "Who is this person you are talking about? And what is the Legacy?"

Griever sheathed his weapons, and turned to leave, "The Legacy is a name, a life and a future; it is something all have, but take for granted. Only one of us, Lionheart, can become Kira Yamato."

Cross froze upon hearing that name, and wheeled about only to find that Griever was no longer there. But, even though out of sight, the latter's voice drifted back to him, "I was told that Kira Yamato would play an important role in the future, one that draws closer with each passing day. Once it is decided which one of us will inherit the Legacy, then it will begin..."

The brown-haired commander walked out of the dressing room. His sinister twin was nowhere, but still his voice drifted back to him. What was he talking about? A legacy...? Who was this Kira Yamato? And what would begin...?

"Soon, my brother, you and I will cross swords. He who wins that duel will decide if the Horsemen will ride forth and lay waste to this corrupt land. Do not think that you can stop what is to come, for you are nothing if not powerless. Now, before I go, I leave you with one question. Tell me, Cross Lionheart, what is it that you believe in? And is that belief the thing that drove Kira Yamato in the final days of the Bloody Valentine War?"

Cross did not reply; his mind was a whirlwind of confusion, but it focused on the name of Kira Yamato. It was a common enough name, but when Griever spoke of a Kira that had fought in the Bloody Valentine War, he remembered reading PLANTs' HISA reports of when Lacus Clyne had given a person with that very name the experimental, nuclear-powered Freedom Gundam. Those same reports had also revealed that Kira Yamato had died in the final hours of the war; Lacus Clyne had admitted this much. Investigations held much latter supported her statement; there was no way that anyone – or anything – could survive the explosion that had consumed the GENESIS gun. True, he was found in its vicinity two years ago, but there was no way he could be Kira Yamato. He had seen the pictures of what remained of the Freedom after it had been recovered by the Earth Forces; the chance of anyone surviving the explosion that destroyed it was low. That they did not find Kira Yamato's body in the Freedom's cockpit – and considering the horrific damage within – had left the investigators to reason that it had been vaporized in the explosion.

All of this had left Cross with answers that led to new questions. One among them, however, disturbed him. He replayed Griever's words over in his mind. But, it was not logically possible. How can two people be the same individual? Cross rubbed his temples, trying to ward off an impending headache. No, right now, there was no point in looking for answers to very difficult questions. He did not have enough information to work with, and these, he somehow knew, would come to him in time. He pushed the encounter and conversation with Griever to the back of his mind. Now was the time to spend time with his family, and not worry about what was to come after.

As Cross headed back to the main concert hall, something Griever had said earlier caused him to come to a stop. The latter had mentioned that there were individuals who viewed – and used – them as pieces on a vast chessboard, and against whom defiance would amount to nothing. Who were these individuals? And what was it about them that had left Griever afraid?

**(O)**

It had taken Tiffa and Ayanes little effort to get Raijin and Cykes to behave themselves – and drag them to the seats they were supposed to occupy. The blue-haired Azure Pegasus shook her head in disapproval, glaring at the two young men like an exasperated mother who knew that her children would be up to their usual tricks when her back was turned.

"Shooting rubber bands at people from the box seats," Tiffa scowled, "Are you two, by any chance, tired of living? Do you want to wake up and find yourselves in the ship's brig, and Captain Sheila smiling at you? Because if you are, I can arrange it for you – **WITHOUT** using the tazer Cross has on him!"

"Chill, Tiffa," Raijin said, rubbing the back of his head, "it was only a spot of harmless fun..."

"And definitely not something that warranted torture..." Cykes rubbed his ear that Ayanes had twisted.

"You **are** tired of living," Tiffa's smirk became one with an edge, "But I'll cut you a break. You two behave for the rest of the concert, and you're off the hook. Do we have a deal?"

Cykes and Raijin exchanged looks, before looking over their shoulders. The crew of the _Enuma-Elish_ sat behind them, all of them in their best clothes. Some of them were glaring daggers at the red-haired youth and his enormous companion; these had been on the receiving end of their game and were none too happy about it. Then, their eyes widened when they saw another person enter the Phoenix Hall. Clad in a black and gold-veined dress, her golden locks tumbling over her shoulders, was their ship's captain. Raijin whistled appreciatively; out of her austere uniform, Sheila D'Avenant would have easily been mistaken for a model. Ayanes and Tiffa, upon hearing Raijin whistle, turned about to see what had caught their attention. Their eyebrows hit their hairlines, and they smiled in greeting towards the _Enuma-Elish_'s captain. The golden-haired woman nodded in return, before taking her seat next to her ship's command crew.

"Now, this is rare," Ayanes said, "Sheila, in something not resembling a uniform, and attending a concert? I expect to see a pig fly pass sometime soon."

"Indeed," Tiffa's smile had a predatory edge, "But her coming here has given us an unexpected bonus, Ayanes: it means that these two won't start anything. Will you?"

Raijin and Cykes swallowed, and nodded. As the judges and the announcer stepped into the hall to thunderous applause, the finals of the idol search – a contest that had taken several months and spanning the entire Earth Sphere – was being held in these very halls, days before the Memorial Concert. The winners of the competition would sing on the same stage where celebrities like Lacus Clyne and Mizuho Koyomi would perform.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Thomas Caprice, and I will be your host tonight for the finals of the Starlight Idol Search," the announcer spoke into his mike, "To all of you, including our viewers, our organizers and I promise you this: tonight will be a memorable night! Tonight, after ten months, the Starlight Idol Search comes to an end!

"Our judges," he swept a hand across the ten-strong panel that sat before the stage, "are looking forward to what the finalists have planned for their performances. As you well know, the top three finalists will be given the honour of performing before millions on the Heavenly Stairway (10), where the Memorial Concert will be held! But, whether they win or lose, our twenty finalists who have made it this far know one thing: they have proven themselves to be some of the best singers and musicians in the Earth Sphere!

"And now, without further ado, let us begin! Give a warm hand, ladies and gentlemen, to these aspiring stars!"

A thunderous applause shook the Phoenix Hall. When it finally died, the announcer said, "We had a last minute change of plans, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, our finalists will draw lots on who will come on stage first. Our first singer for this evening is one whose first performance had captured the hearts and minds of those who heard her and whom the judges are confident will be among the top three. She was the girl who created the song, 'Under the Tree of Eternity', a singles album which had sold billions in the days after it was sung."

Eyes widened. Everyone knew who was going to step out from behind the curtains.

"Ladies and gentlemen, give your warmest welcome to Helena Evanescence, the Starlight Hawk!"

The applause that erupted could be heard despite by every soul inside the Symphonia's Rising Light Concert Hall. The announcer quickly stepped off the stage as the main lights dimmed and the crimson curtains parted. There, standing on stage, like a glorious angel, was Helena, who raised one arm in greeting to the crowd. The light blue lighting that soon illuminated her made the audience fall into awed silence as the three-dimensional holographic system brought into being the vista of a vast mountain range. Its towering, snow-capped peaks reached for the skies, as if in prayer. And slowly, the musicians that had taken their places prior to Helena's appearance, began to play their instruments. It mounted slowly, guided by a brown-haired man who stood before them. And then, Helena started to sing. The song was old, stretching back centuries to a time before the sons and daughters of Earth had left their home-world. It was a simple song, but with Helena's voice and the skills of the musicians, it stirred the hearts of those who heard it. The song was used originally as the introductory song of a hentai computer game, but it captured with its words the lesson it had sought to convey: family was a sacred thing, precious beyond price.

And even as the song died away, the feeling of warmth and resolution did not. The audience's applause was thunderous, and the announcer had to wait until it died away before he could speak, "The song you've just heard, ladies and gentlemen, was Kotoko's 'Under the Same Sky'. It's an old Earth song, originating from Japan and was used, amazingly, for an adult video game. You could get the original song from the Music Archive, but I doubt it will move you as much as Miss Helena's rendition of it has done. But, we're not done yet. Miss Helena has four songs to sing, and if this one is any indication, the remainder will have you on your feet."

Thomas Caprice, the announcer, turned towards Helena, "Now, Miss Helena, can you tell us about the songs you are about to sing?"

The white-haired girl smiled shyly, "Three of my four songs are from Japan, Thomas. The first two were once sung by Kotoko, and the third by Kosaka Riyu. The last..." Helena paused, "...is a song of my own creation."

The judges looked impressed, and one of the three chief judges, a woman, spoke, "I look forward to it, Miss Helena. You are one of our...more difficult contestants, but I am certain you will not fail to impress."

"I will do my best," Helena replied.

"That you will," the judge replied, "So what is the title of your next song?"

"Blaze, by Kotoko..."

"Let's hear it, then."

Helena turned towards Cross, and her commander gave her a thumbs-up and mouthed, _'Bring the house down, Helena...'_

Smiling, she closed her eyes as the music started to play up, and when she opened them a moment later, the holographic image of the mountain range had faded away. Now, Helena stood within the interiors of a majestic cathedral. She raised the mike to her lips, and as the music hit the lyrics' starting point, began to sing. Cross and the band were struggling to not lose themselves in the emotions that Helena was invoking. The first song held hope and determination it its music and lyrics; this second song held in its core courage, defiance and conviction. The response to the second song as it ended was as thunderous as the first. Even Helena's fellow contestants could not help but applaud. Whatever fear and envy they felt for her had faded away; this was what the Starlight Idol Search was all about: the best proving that they were worthy of the name.

Cross closed his eyes, preparing for the third song: Guilty Sky, by Kosaka Riyu. It had been used originally for a closing song for a Japanese animation called Claymore and, many centuries later, for the animation revolving around the War of Wrath that had led to the fall of the Imperial Dominion. It was not a true accounting of what happened then as its creators had done their best to gather what information they had regarding that chaotic period. But, it was a good effort nonetheless. The studio had won multiple awards for the originality of its storyline, the exquisite and awe-inspiring battle scenes and its music scores. Helena had loved the animation; she had the special edition DVDs, its soundtracks and the art books in her quarters. He let out a long breath, and opened his eyes. The background of the majestic cathedral had faded away, and in its place was the breathtaking vista of mountains outlined by the setting sun, under a sky of crimson and amber. Crimson petals floated in the wind, and the images of swords and guns punched into the ground, each surmounted by the helmets worn by soldiers of a distant past.

It was a grim scene, one that fit the mood of the song that was to be played.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, the third song, Guilty Sky," Thomas announced, "from the highly-acclaimed animation series, _Valkyrie's Cry: Heart under Blade_."

Cross nodded towards the musicians, who played the opening scores of the song. Melancholy, despair, courage and conviction laced its every note, and Helena's voice told the story of each and every soul that had perished in the War of Wrath. She had altered the song, inserting several key lines, and striking deep into the heart of each and every soul within (and outside) the Phoenix Hall. As the song went on, the holographic image brought the entire hall into the a place deep within the mountain range, in a place where a young man with golden-brown hair stood alone in a sea of swords and guns, each a grave marker for a comrade lost to him forever. The way the moonlight shone down upon him conveyed the depth of loneliness and anguish, of a wrong that can never be made right.

The brown-haired Steel Angel commander glanced over his shoulder to look at his compatriots, and smiled. Their expressions of rapt awe and admiration told him that his decision to have them all come to the concert had been a good one. Even Sheila, the stern captain of the _Enuma-Elish_, had a look of childlike wonder on her face. The song came to a thunderous finish, and to an applause that seemed louder than before. Cross smiled inwardly; he was seeing Helena's dream coming true. And, if that smile on her face was any indication, he knew that she knew she was almost there.

"That was incredible, Miss Helena..." one of the chief judges finally spoke as the applause died down, his voice rough, "That was incredible. You not only planned ahead; you improved on the songs and you created the atmosphere that would lend them impact. That's it: I'm putting my personal stamp on having you sing at the Memorial Concert, even if it means my putting a gun to the director's head."

The crowd – and Helena's rivals in the sidelines – cheered upon hearing this.

"Just one request, though," another judge added, "before I do the same as Simmons. You sing that song at the concert."

"Done," Helena laughed.

**X X X**

Natarle Badgiruel was impressed. Helena Evanescence was easily the equal of idols like Lacus Clyne and Maria Hunter. She had proven herself creative and imaginative, and even her rivals in the wings could not help but be entranced by her voice and passion. Melancholia suddenly gripped the dark-haired commander's heart, as she looked at her red-haired companion. The latter had an awed expression of a child who was captivated by his first sight of the star ocean.

'_Mama..._'

Natarle closed her eyes.

One day, she would show that little girl in her dreams that star ocean, where heroes and giants strode, where legends were real, and where wonder and adventure waited for the intrepid soul.

**X X X**

Angel Allster remembered a time back when she had gone singing with her schoolmates in a karaoke lounge. She had sung in school concerts and was hailed by her schoolmates as one of the best singers in the colony. It had been difficult holding onto that title, considering that there were many – Coordinators and Naturals alike –who wanted to take her place. But, not once had she – or any of her competitors, for that matter! – been able to infuse her songs with the emotion that the white-haired Coordinator had done.

Her mind took her back to a time when she was still Fllay Allster, when she had sung at Heliopolis University's 12th Anniversary Concert. She remembered how a shy Kira had tried to approach her, carrying a bouquet of flowers. A stampede of fans had rushed past him, shoving and pushing the shy Coordinator till he was shoved out of the way. At that time, Fllay had not given Kira even the time of day. She had cared more for the adulation and praises heaped upon her by her peers.

'_You live today...because someone has taken your place in Hell.'_

Angel closed her eyes as the words of Lacus Clyne repeated itself in her mind. She smiled bitterly; impossible as it was, it felt like the song sung moments before had been meant for her. A guilty angel, standing beneath a guilty sky...it was a fitting representation of everything she was now.

**X X X**

And in one of the VIP boxes, a young man with golden-brown hair raised a toast to the singer below.

**X X X**

As the applause finally died down, Helena nodded to Cross, an unspoken gesture for him to begin playing. This was the last song, and one that would end her performance on stage with a grand finale. Cross closed his eyes, activating his AEI and retrieving the musical scores from his memory storage implant. Christ, Helena plans to bring the house down with this, he thought. It had taken the white-haired girl **weeks** to compose the song, and two weeks for the musicians of non-stop practice to get it right. He looked at them. They grinned. This would be their crowning glory.

As the opening scores began to play, the holographic system recreated an image out of history: the Imperial Palace. The majestic home of the rulers of the Solar Empire and the Imperial Dominion had been destroyed during the final days of the War of Wrath a thousand years ago. Helena stood before a fountain that stood at the entrance of the garden that had divided the broad highway that led through the palace's monolithic gates. Banners of crimson and gold, bearing the sigil of the Dominion, were mounted on either side of the highway, fluttering proudly in the wind.

"This shall be my final song," Helena spoke as she raised her mike, "and it is, as you already know, one of my own making. The title of the song is _'Morningstar'_, and it is dedicated to all my friends and comrades-in-arms, no matter where they are! But first, I have to invite the leader of my musicians onto the stage..."

**(O)**

When Helena finally stepped off the stage, it was to the sound of thunderous applause that was mirrored in homes, restaurants and bars across the Earth Sphere. Coordinator or not, the Starlight Hawk had delivered a noteworthy performance. Even her rivals who stood in the wings were on their feet as the white-haired girl went backstage where her fellow Steel Angels waited. Cross shook hands with the musicians he had hired, even as they made way for those hired by the next singer.

When he made his way backstage, Cross saw that Helena and the rest were waiting for him. One of the crew members of the _Enuma-Elish_ produced a bottle, "We've ordered pizza and sushi, commander. Hope you don't mind."

Cross smiled, "Hardly. Hope you ordered enough, Bill. I'm hungry after all that excitement. Oh wait..." and he stepped back out and called for the musicians to come over, "Order more. Helena's musicians will be joining us as well."

"Right on, chief," the man replied.

Cross watched the blushing Helena as she took in the praises and playful remarks of bringing the house down with her final song. He turned his head skyward, thanking the powers that be that the night had ended on a positive note. The brown-haired Steel Angel commander knew that this night was much needed for the team and, now, with their will re-forged, they would be ready for what was to come. One chapter of their life has ended. Another was set to begin.

**(O)**

_**Archangel-class battleship, Shield of Destiny, two hours later...**_

The wise have written that the previous chapters of one's life define how future chapters would be written. Had Cross be given a vision of what was to come, which involved the dark-haired commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ going over the information she had gathered throughout the evening, he would have realized how much he would need the strength he had gained that night. When the concert ended, Natarle learnt that the person Angel had met earlier was the same person who directed Helena's musicians – and the same person who had spoken to her in the nightclub the day before.

Natarle had produced a portable camcorder from her purse, training it onto the white-haired singer and her brown-haired companion when the former called the latter onto the stage. Small and shaped like a pen, it was often issued to EA's intelligence agents in order to have them identify enemy commanders and possible weaknesses in their security apparatus. It was capable of recording up to ten minutes' worth of audio and video – more than enough for what Natarle had in mind.

The dark-haired commander leaned back into her chair with a sigh, waiting for her computer to process the data that she had uploaded into it. It had taken all of her willpower to proceed with the analysis; she knew that upon doing so, many things would change. She closed her eyes, remembering the dream she had had of Kira not so long ago. She remembered his words he had spoken.

'_You can save me as you saved yourself...'_

A melodic chime caused Natarle to open her eyes; the computer had finished its analysis. Her eyes widened when she saw the results. There was no way that what she was looking at was possible! Voice and image analysis indicated a match of 98% - both individuals were essentially one and the same person! The left side of the screen was a picture of Cross Lionheart on the stage in the Phoenix Hall, playing the guitar. On the right was Kira Yamato, wearing the blue and crimson EA Army uniform. Side by side, despite the scar and long hair on the former, Natarle found it difficult to differentiate between the two.

It was at that moment that Natarle was glad she chose to keep her investigations private. She leaned back into her chair, pondering on what to do next. She knew that, eventually, she would have to share the results of her investigation with Murrue and the rest; this was something that could not be hidden – and it would be best if they learnt of this from her before they wasted time and resources doing investigations that had no easy answers. The dark-haired commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ rubbed her temples.

Maybe Helena Evanescence would have some answers. After all, it was clear that the two knew each other. Natarle suddenly froze. Hold on a moment...Helena knew Cross? How...? The answer came a moment later, striking the commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ with the force of a thunderbolt. She shot up from her seat, sifting through the data-slate files on her desk before pulling one out. It took the dark-haired officer a moment to activate it, take in the details of the counter-terrorist operation and those who were involved in it, and laugh. She should have taken the time to read the file in her hands instead of reading the first few pages: Cross Lionheart was the commander of the ZAFT team that would take part in the counter-terrorist operation.

The dark-haired commander sat down once more, using the data-slate's pointer to open another sub-section of the document regarding the Steel Angels. Upon accessing Cross's military records, Natarle's expression became sour; what she saw there was less than helpful. It was obvious that ZAFT's High Command was wary of sharing too much information with the officer of a faction that had once been their enemy. Even so, she came upon something noteworthy: Cross Lionheart suffered from amnesia, and had been found in an area of space close to where the GENESIS gun had been. Who had brought him in was unknown, but it was clear that Ayanami Tiffa, the Steel Angel's second-in-command, had been the first to make contact with him upon his awakening. But, one thing was clear to Natarle: the timing between Kira's death and Cross's memory loss was too much of a coincidence.

She had so many questions to ask, and so little time to have them answered. She considered putting forth a formal request to ZAFT's High Command regarding Cross and his Steel Angels, but decided against it. The people she wanted answers from would soon be working with her anyway. Natarle yawned; for now, her questions could wait. The dark-haired commander saved the data on her computer, turned it off, and walked towards her bed. She turned about, gazing at the picture that rested on a small table next to her bed.

And in her dreams, she saw Kira Yamato standing in the very cathedral Helena Evanescence sang in.

_**To be continued...**_

_**Author's Afterword**_

I humbly apologize if this chapter took so long to come out. A burn-out left me charred and it took weeks before I could get myself back into the fight. Nonetheless, here it is. If you, my loyal reader, have been following my story (or more accurately, Kouryuo Sabre's story, as this is all his!) and been waiting for a new chapter, I thank you for your patience. I admit to this: there may be some discrepancies between present and past chapters, but I **will** strive to keep this to a minimum.

Please do give me a review or two; I'd like to know if I've delivered on a quality story.

1) _Sibko_: The acronym for sibling-company. The term is adopted from Battletech, but in the context of this story, members of the sibko are born naturally instead of in artificial birthing chambers (or iron wombs, as they are commonly known). The sons and daughters of a sibko share the same father (or rarely, the same mother).

2) Mortal Kombat: Long-time gamers should be familiar with this old Sega classic. Don't worry; in Cosmic Era, MK is known as MK-Infinity – better graphics, fighters and gore for the fans of the game.

3) There is a reason behind PLANTs' breeding program outside of the obvious. You'll find out later as the story goes on. Let's just say that hubris is the one thing common to both Naturals and Coordinators...

4) HQDM – High-Quality Digital Media. Sorry, I had to create my own acronyms for music files. This story is set in the future, after all. No need to stick with MP3 and the like when you know things are gonna' be different, eh? Oh, don't worry, all that stuff is still in use. :)

5) In Kouryuo Sabre's original draft, it was the Ockzam's Razor – the anti-Coordinator faction – who was planning the attack on Neo-Stratos; in mine, I changed it to the Genesis Light faction. It coincides with my plans – which you will see unfold in time. Those of you who can read the byzantine scheme in my mind will know how the story will unfold.

6) I failed to mention in the last part of Chapter 5 where exactly in the Concert Hall Helena's concert was being held. My apologies.

7) What Angel/Fllay is wearing is similar to that worn by B. Jenet, a female video game character from KOF: Maximum Impact 2, but with more taste. The angular design on the front is similar to that seen in the Code Geass anime.

8) To those who have never served in the Army, drop twenty means twenty push-ups.

9) Accessible-Execution Implant (AEI) allows the individual to utilize skills that he or she has not learnt. For example, you do not know (like me) how to speak Japanese, nor are you familiar with the culture. Download the data, and you can do so in a matter of hours. The culture part will, of course, take time. NOTE: This is one advanced piece of technology; its development in the Earth Sphere is in its infancy. Sharp readers will read in between the lines and know what I'm trying to say without me saying it. *smile*

10) The Heavenly Stairway is an enormous stadium and the place where the Memorial Concert would be held. Neo-Stratos's governing body reconstructed months prior in preparation for the event.


	8. Chapter 7

_**Gundam SeeD Destiny – Lion of Heaven**_

_**Original Idea, drafts and concepts by Kouryuo Sabre**_

_**Re-written by Spiritblade**_

_**Disclaimer: **_I think we can skip this. We know who Gundam SeeD and GSD series belong to, and who the original writer of this story is – and it will be most discourteous if I should ever forget.

Special thanks to Kouryuo Sabre for allowing me to write this story. And, dear readers, I have a boon to ask of you. Please do leave a review or two for both me and Kouryuo Sabre (visit his profile page – it has some excellent works). It will ensure that we don't fall asleep on duty.

Oh...and a bit of shameless marketing. Please read both our other stories as well, and hand us some reviews. Keep us going. And I apologize if this chapter took so long to come out. I had a war dealing with my Angel Halo Project, and ensuring it meets my very exacting standards. I have no wish to acquire a reputation for being half-hearted with my work (and when my pride gets involved...it's merciless in its judgment of me). And this chapter went through two drafts before posting. This was easily the HARDEST chapter for me to finish; Kouryuo Sabre's original draft was a tactical nightmare in which a scalpel had to be used (rather than a war-hammer).

Posting of this story will be somewhat slower, but I will ensure that the first book is finished. Count on it.

Now, on with the story...

**P.S.: **Natarle's scenes with alternate between reality and dreamscape. The one where she is having a conversation with Kira is the dreamscape; the one where she is on the _Shield of Destiny_ is reality.

**(O)**

_The young man dreamt. _

_He dreamt of days long gone. He dreamt of worlds beyond counting, of countless battles fought under a hundred suns beneath banners of white and crimson, depicting God's Champion in his most wrathful aspect. He dreamt of his home-world, of the warm sun bathing majestic, snow-capped mountains that have stood long before humanity had laid claim to the world. He dreamt of his friends and family, as they stood before a sea turned silver by the light of his home-world's twin moons._

_But, most of all…he dreamt of her – his teacher, his first love. He remembered the way she had come into his life and, like the sword that had been in her family for many generations, proceeded to turn it upside down. He remembered how his siblings – those who had been assigned to the same class as he – had turned in their seats to look at him, the expressions on their faces ranging from shock to amusement. His parents had laughed when he had admitted that what they had felt via the chains that bound a clan was true: he had fallen in love – and fallen hard. When his father had asked him the name of the girl whose affections he had hoped to gain, his reaction had made his parents exchange knowing smiles, his siblings to giggle…and one among them to leave the table in anger._

_At first, he had thought her jealous. But, in time, he began to understand the reasons why she had acted the way she did. Their family was unlike any other. Those rare few who had been accepted into their family soon learnt that the rumours that surrounded the clan were all too true. His sister – no, his half-sister – had wanted to spare him the heartbreak…and to protect him from those who would use him for their own ends. There was much the clan had that the power-hungry would pay an Emperor's ransom to possess. _

_But, he would pay ten times that – and more – to hear his teacher's admonishing voice once more. He would have given the keys to his family's vaults to hold his teacher's hands one last time. And he would have traded all the days of his life to tell her that he loved her. But it was too late. She was lost to him, just as the Prophetess-Queen of Suldanesselar was lost to him. And all he had of them were memories to ease the pain and guilt._

_And for once, he hoped that it would be enough._

_**(O)**_

_Morrigan opened her eyes upon hearing her Master's voice, thinking him awake. But no, he was still deep in slumber. His breathing was deep and regular, his bio-rhythms stable. The emerald-haired Dragoon hugged her Master's naked body closer to her own. The fire she had set some hours before had gone out, shrouding the empty cathedral once more in darkness and allowing the stygian temperatures to enfold them in its icy grip. Such things bothered the War Goddess not at all, but her Master was all too vulnerable to the elements. Raising one hand, she used her force grapples to pull several old wooden pews towards her before igniting them with her inbuilt flame-lance._

_Bathed once more in light and warmth, the Cathedral of Seraphs revealed its true face. The statues of saints and angels stood in the alcoves, gazing down benevolently on those who prayed within the Cathedral's walls. The Dragoon could make out Arabic verses engraved into the marble of the enormous dome where the depiction of Christ of Saviour stood with an arm raised to Earth, to remind all regardless of faith and allegiance that the blue and green planet that had stood countless centuries was home to all humanity._

_The Dragoon turned to look at the enormous stained glass frieze behind her. The representation was not of any Saint, Prophet or Angel of humanity's messianic religions. No, it was the face of a wingly woman whose beauty and power was as legendary among her people as it was among the humans who had heard of her – and whose visage gazed down kindly upon the human who had defended both her and her people. Written in gold on a plaque of white-veined, green marble was the name of the work, the date of its completion and the identity of the individual who had created it: 'The Queen of Heaven, by Hadrian Marcus – Completed on 21__st__ May 3392 A.D__.__' Even without __accessing her database, the Dragoon knew who the artist was. He was one of the few humans who had been given the rare honour of meeting the Holy Queen of Suldanesselar in person and who, mesmerized that such perfection could exist, had spent the last years of his life creating the frieze that now dominated the western wing of the majestic cathedral. _

_The other individual given that rare honour was the renowned writer Sylvia Thompson who had, months before the High Lord of Lordaeron declared a Crusade on the Imperial Dominion, interviewed Morrigan's Master. The author had come bearing a missive from the Queen of Suldanesselar herself, the latter requesting that her Master cooperate with Sylvia to the best of his abilities. And to Morrigan's surprise, he did. The culmination of Sylvia's work had been the bestselling novel, _'Under the Tree of Eternity', _which utilized a modified version of Hadrian's last (and greatest) work as its cover. _

_Morrigan looked up as her sensor arrays received the signals from the small, finger-nail sized probes she had released into space hours after the Order had left the planet. Opening several holographic screens before her, she saw a dozen quantum gates open in the vicinity of the planet's outer lunar orbit where the quantum jump-gate was located. The energy fluctuation and the mass displacement index readings caused the green-haired Dragoon's eyes to narrow._

_**(O)**_

_He would never forget his teacher's name or the way she looked at him from the corner of her eye, daring him to win that which she would never surrender. The fates of those who had tried to chain this particular lioness ended in one of three ways. The first involved the admirer being turned away with some measure of the latter's pride intact. The second involved a dismissal that would have made a Czer-Za Ork Warlord's nuts shrink. The third, and possibly the worst ending, would be a re-enactment of what happened to Prince Shen Zhan, the youngest son of the late Viceroy Huang Zhan and his lieutenant, General Shey Ren: a sound thrashing – and a scornful dismissal that would shredded the dignity of an Antarian Knight. _

_Kurenai Shizuru was not a woman who could be won over by expensive gifts, sweet words or tender endearments. And the fact that she was a skilled martial artist and a strict disciplinarian soon had many of her admirers throwing in the towel. Many of his female schoolmates – including his sisters – worshipped the ground she walked on. She was everything they wanted to be. _

_But, it was clear that before Shizuru became a teacher, she had, like her father, been a soldier. Having served in the Royal Dragon Guard as a captain for four years since her twenty-first birthday, she had seen the best and the worst the galaxy had to offer. The many stories she shared with her students painted a world that the Bloody Angel and his decimated clan were all too familiar with: a cruel reality where power was the only currency of value. But, it was the way she looked at him when she told those stories that told him that they were all meant for him. It was one day after she told his class a love story between the Holy Queen of Suldanesselar and an ambitious Wingly Prince, and how it ended, did he make the mistake of asking his teacher if it was all right for him to love her. It was a mistake that led to a time of joy and discovery…one that would endure in his memory till the day he died._

_But at that point in time, he had thought that her refusal to reply was an unspoken rebuke for his foolishness. It was only when he saw that rare, warm smile – a smile that reached her dark blue eyes – did he know that the mistake had been one worth making._

_**(O)**_

_As the quantum jump-gates closed with a glorious flash of light, Morrigan could make out a dozen shapes hovering in Rigel III's lunar orbit, before spreading out in a loose combat formation that would have cost a fleet commander his commission and a star-fighter squadron leader her wings. Morrigan enhanced her image returns. Her earlier conclusion had been spot on: a Dragoon and her Valkyrie escorts. __Worse, it was a Dragoon Morrigan knew all too well._

_There was no mistaking the golden-brown mane of hair, no mistaking the ornate armour worn over a skin-tight bodysuit, nor the enormous long-handled axe or the pulsar lance that was slung across her back. It was Freya, the Dragoon of the missing Holy Queen of Suldanesselar. Behind her were Valkyries, lesser Dragoons, who were likewise part of the Queen's royal guard. The majestic banner that one of the Valkyries bore aloft proudly proclaimed that allegiance._

_Morrigan could not help but wonder what Freya and her Valkyries were doing in the Rigel system. It wasn't like the Archangel Duchy's King to exclude his co-ruler's personal guard from the search of the missing Queen of Suldanesselar. Did the _Sovereign_ program, hardwired within every Dragoon and their lesser Valkyrie cousins, malfunction? Was it disabled? It was possible. The technology of the winglies surpassed that which had created Morrigan and her many siblings. The Holy Queen of Suldanesselar was among the rare few in the entire galaxy who viewed the Goddesses of War as more than a weapon, but as something close to human._

…_Almost...human. Morrigan closed her eyes. How she wished she could be truly human. She remembered how her creator gazed down upon her with kindly eyes, running a hand through her thick locks with a father's love, before telling her that the Goddesses of War could conceive, that their bodies were capable of siring new life into a galaxy full of wonder and danger. But her master would never touch her…not in the same way as he had Kurenai Shizuru or the missing Holy Queen of Suldanesselar. _

"Protect him."

_That had been the Holy Queen's command to her, as former gifted her with a Pulsar Lance no different from the one Freya wielded. _

"Protect him."

_The Eye of God, Mikhail, had commanded her before she led the army that had pursued both her and her Master off the frozen, ghost-haunted world. _

"Protect him."

_Her Master's mentor in the Holy Order had told Morrigan thus before he left on his ill-fated mission to the Algol System. Twelve Angels had followed him, faithful since the day he left the ranks of the Galactic Police and fought to restore the unity of one of the Shogunate's border-worlds. All twelve had perished with him in a battle against an unknown enemy._

"Protect him."

_Morrigan pulled a thick cloak of Antarian wool from her vector cache and wrapped her Master's body with it before leaving the Cathedral of Seraphs. Only one word echoed amidst its ghost-haunted interiors like a thunderclap:_

"_Code Gehenna confirmed. Materialize."_

_**(O)**_

_The captain of the ship bearing away refugees from the bitter war between the Order and the Dominion had not been lying, Freya thought as her sensors mapped out the region surrounding the Rigel System's third planet, The entire system was nothing more than a gigantic graveyard. Death had ridden his pale steed through the system, and taken each and every soul that had lived in it. Why had her missing Mistress ordered her to come to this place? Freya knew that this was the last place that her Mistress's abductors would take her to, as the war between the Order and the Dominion had yet to abate. _

_Freya remembered the sad, pensive looks on her Mistress's face on the holographic message the latter had left her and the stern command that brooked no argument on the Dragoon's part. There had to be a reason why Freya's missing Mistress had prioritised the safety of her lover over her own and – after hacking into the communications network of the Order via the flagship of the one of the Order's Generals – she found out why. What the Dragoon found out bordered on ridiculous. Why would the Fiery Lord and the commanders of the other Sword and Shield Legions choose to betray their masters at the last minute? It made no sense. The Order had practically won the war. The Imperial armies and star-fleets within the Solar System were all but crushed; the only thing that could save the defeated Empress of the Dominion was a miracle – and one that was light years away and crossing swords with the vanguard divisions of the Holy Order's main army._

_What could the Dominion's defeated Empress offer the Legion Masters of the Sword and Shield armies in exchange for her life? What could possibly stay the hand of the Fiery Lord, whom the Empress had loved in her childhood years, and whom she had betrayed in the cruellest fashion possible when she ascended the throne?_

_It made no sense. _

_The only thing she could conclude was that the time Lordaeron needed to gather its armies to successfully challenge the Dominion's massive military was the rope they had given the Sword and Shield Legions they would hang them with. It would be a simple matter for the High Lords to falsify the reports and give weight to them by utilizing reports given to them by their agents within the advance Legions' command structure. The intricacy and magnitude of the deception – as well as the way it had been planned – led Freya and her Mistress to conclude that the deployment and eventual betrayal of the Sword and Shield Legions had been part of a larger plot...and that there were powerful and influential factions within the Holy Order that were part of it._

_The Dragoon was unsure as to the details of the plot, but her Mistress had described it as beyond insane. Even the latter's excommunicated and exiled lover's plan to drain the life from the sacred Tree of Eternity to attain immortality had some vestige of sanity and logic to it; the plot Freya's missing Mistress had pieced together lacked even that and – what worse – was actually POSSIBLE. The brief but vicious shadow war waged between the masterminds of the plot and Freya's Mistress uncovered the name of the group and the identity of some of its members._

_It had also revealed some of the obstacles to the implementation of the group's 'Project Godseal': One of them was the current – or rather, in this case, former – Legion Master of the Fiery Sword. _

_The other was his clan, who had died in the apocalyptic barrage that had destroyed their home-world. _

_The last was the Holy Queen of Suldanesselar._

"Protect him, Freya."

_**Chapter 7**_

_**Badgiruel**_

_**Written in the Wind and the Stars – 1**_

_**The Twelve Angels**_

After examining the testimonies of the officers who have served on the _Archangel_, I can now give a fairly accurate appraisal of the reasons that have led to one Kira Yamato piloting the Strike Gundam, one of the five suits constructed under the now-defunct Project-G, and who subsequently went MIA days before the _Archangel _managed to reach friendly waters. It is clear from the testimonies of the _Archangel_'s crew that Kira Yamato was given ample time and plenty of chances to reconsider his decision for to fight for the Earth Alliance.

Attached to the back of this report are the full transcripts of the interviews with the _Archangel_'s three commanding officers: Major Mwu la Flaga, Captain Murrue Ramius and Lieutenant Natarle Badgiruel. Nothing substantial could be gleaned save the fact that the bond Major la Flaga and Captain Murrue had with Kira Yamato had severely affected their judgment and their ability to carry out their roles as officers of the Earth Army. Only the third officer, Lieutenant Badgiruel showed no sign of such closeness to the Coordinator. At first opposed to Kira Yamato piloting a Strike, Lt. Badgiruel soon changed her mind after seeing what he was capable of. And after seeing the Coordinator's impressive combat record, I am forced to agree with the lieutenant – especially in regards to her attempt to convince the late Admiral Richard Halberton, commander of devastated 8th Fleet (and who was also the architect of Project-G), to have Kira Yamato become a permanent member of the Earth Army.

However, I could not help but feel that Lt. Badgiruel was holding something back. She was very reluctant to express her personal opinions regarding Kira Yamato and, when finally persuaded to express them, was objective in her views. I quote the lieutenant: 'I am an officer, Colonel Hughes. One of the things they taught in Officer Cadet School was to no never allow our emotions to get in the way of our duties.'

I refrained from pursuing the matter further, as it was clear to me that whatever it was that had taken place between Kira Yamato and Lt. Badgiruel was both sensitive and private. It is also clear to me, from the interview, that Lt. Badgiruel is capable of distancing herself from those killed in action. The only conclusion I could reach regarding Lt. Badgiruel's reluctance to speak was that she was unprepared to see a child take to the field.

Knowing that I could not gain any more information regarding Kira Yamato from his superiors, I turned my attentions to those who knew him personally, namely the _Archangel_'s crew and his schoolmates. Both proved surprisingly uncooperative. Further investigation revealed the reasons: on the same day that Kira Yamato was declared MIA, one of his friends, a certain Tolle Koenig (see Appendix D-4), was as well. It was only by chance and slip of tongue of one Fllay Allster, daughter of the late Undersecretary of the Earth Alliance, George Allster, that I was able to comprehend the reasons behind Kira Yamato's actions.

It boiled down to the gratitude of a young girl, one of the sixty-eight refugees Kira Yamato had managed to rescue from an escape pod when Heliopolis was destroyed by a ZAFT Bloodhawk task force, who had perished when the Duel Gundam destroyed the escape shuttle she had been on. Miss Allster told me that the event had taken place before his very eyes, and that it had scarred him deeply. I believe that it was this incident that drove Kira Yamato to ensure that the _Archangel_ does not meet the same fate. Intelligence confirms that the ZAFT strike force that attacked and destroyed the 8th Fleet and killed Lord Halberton was led by the Bloodhawk Commander Rau le Creuset. I recommend that a task force be set up to deal with this individual; the loss of Admiral Halberton was a considerable blow to the morale of our troops fighting ZAFT in the European, Middle East-African and Pacific theatre.

On a side note, I have also found out that Miss Allster was once engaged to Sai Argyle, the eldest son of the powerful and influential Argyle family, and that the two had called it off when Miss Allster initiated an affair with Kira Yamato. The reasons why Miss Allster has done so are unclear, as her stance on the Coordinator issue is well known among her peers. I can only surmise that the death of her father had affected her ability to think rationally.

On the issue of the _Archangel_'s two MIA crewmen, Tolle Koenig and Kira Yamato, I recommend that their status be changed to a confirmed KIA and that condolence letters be sent from our War Ministry to their parents in Orb, as well as any relevant medals we can award them. My decision to declare Tolle Koenig and Kira Yamato KIA was due to the report I managed to acquire from Orb's military-aligned Aquila Emergency Rescue Services. The report clearly states that there were no survivors at the location the _Archangel_ indicated, but that signs of a violent struggle between the Strike and the Aegis had clearly taken place. The wrecked fuselage of the Sky Grasper piloted by Tolle Koenig was also found in the vicinity; I can only conclude that while trying to aid Kira Yamato, Sgt. Tolle was killed by the Aegis's pilot.

Also, it is my personal recommendation that Maj. La Flaga, Lt. Badgiruel and Miss Allster be transferred off the _Archangel_ to other branches in the military where their skills can be put to better use. I also recommend that Capt. Ramius be stripped of her rank as well as command of the _Archangel_ and that she be incarcerated at the military penitentiary at Washington, D.C., pending further investigation into charges of incompetence and possible treason.

End of Case File #341-29B

Declassified files from the Earth Alliance Military Tribunal Archives, First Bloody Valentine War period

Declassification Date: March 29th, Cosmic Era 87

Report filed by Colonel Mason Hughes on May 14th, Cosmic Era 71.

**(O)**

_**EA battleship Shield of Destiny, Captain's quarters, early morning**_

Natarle Badgiruel lowered herself onto her chair, holding a mug of steaming tea in her hands, as she gazed at the titanic blue and white orb that was the planet her family had spent centuries protecting. It stood majestic in a sea of stars, the eye of a God that regarded His Creation with the satisfied approval of a master craftsman who had spent long eons forging His dream into reality. It was a world that had endured long millennia, its skies bearing witness to the rise and fall of civilizations. It was a world where the champions of a flawed race sallied forth to inspire those who would come after them. It was a world _he_ had died to protect. Natarle looked over her shoulder at the framed photograph that rested on her table.

The dark-haired Earth Alliance commander was weary; her sleep had been troubled by dreams of war, all of which featured the young Coordinator who had died in the closing days of the Bloody Valentine War. Indeed, it was that one fact that caused Natarle to question her findings from hours before. There was no way anyone could have survived a full volley from the _Dominion_'s guns, let alone one who piloted an MS as badly damaged as the Freedom had been. It would have taken a _miracle_ – and Natarle had lost faith long ago in such things. She closed her eyes. No matter how much Cross Lionheart looked and sounded like Kira (or an older version of him), the fact remained that the Commander of ZAFT's Constellation Team Leo was not the young Coordinator many would give their lives to see again.

It was a small mercy that Natarle was able to see him in her dreams. But it was only recently that her dreams started to change; where the dark-haired commander had once dreamt of the past, now she dreamt of a future that was slowly coming true – one where she would trample on the oaths her family had once sworn – and honored – for over two thousand years.

**X X**

When Natarle next opened her eyes, it was to unfamiliar surroundings. She was lying close to a crackling campfire that illuminated the wooden interiors of a beach café that had seen better days. She could hear the soft crash of the waves on the seashore, and see the stars ocean above her through the hole in the café's ceiling. Where was she…? What was she doing here? How did she get here? The last thing she knew was that she had fallen asleep in her quarters on the _Shield of Destiny_.

Was she dreaming? Yes, she must be. There was no way anyone could spirit her off her ship and the military base it was docked in without being spotted. Natarle pushed herself up, the act causing the blanket that had been covering her body to slip off and expose her naked body to the elements. Her eyebrows shot to her hairline. Why in the name of all that was holy was she naked? And why did she feel so exhausted? The answer came swiftly when she felt a warm hand suddenly reach up from under the blanket to caress her face.

'_Eh…!'_

Lying beneath her was Kira Yamato, as naked as she was, and smiling that same smile, she knew, that haunted the dreams of every girl – and no few women, Natarle added as an afterthought – who had the misfortune of crossing paths with him. Her eyebrows shot to her hairline, but before she could speak, the young man beneath her ran a finger over her lips, "I am surprised that you're still able to move after all that. I thought you would have fallen asleep by now."

It did not take Natarle long to put the pieces together. She blushed furiously.

"And you're cute when you blush," the young man beneath her added, "It's better than the stern expression that you used to have when I first met you…or the sad one that now takes its place whenever you are alone."

"Kira…" Natarle managed to speak finally, "Is this a dream…?"

"Does it feel like one?" Kira asked, wrapping his arms around the older woman and pulling her back down onto him. Natarle soon found her head resting on Kira's chest, the warmth of his body, the sound of his heartbeat, the sensation of being held in an embrace that was velvet, steel and tender flame silencing any doubt she had had earlier. In all the dreams she had about Kira, none of them had the intimacy of the one she now had. For a long time, Natarle and Kira remained in that position, feeling the warmth of the fire and the cool caress of the sea breeze upon their skins.

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, the dark-haired commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ spoke, "Even if it is a dream, I don't want it to end…and I cannot stop from wanting it to be real."

"It will be, Natarle," Kira whispered softly, running a hand through Natarle's hair, "It will be…"

**X X**

'_Mommy…'_

Natarle froze upon hearing that soft voice and whipped her head around, almost spilling her drink in the process, half-expecting to see the small form of a white-haired girl clutching a teddy bear in her arms standing behind her. But there was no one there. The magnetic lock that she had requested installed on the entrance to her quarters indicated that it was still in operation, and could only be deactivated if someone had both her password and her ID card – or, if she was in the room, she allowed them to come in. Natarle let out a long breath, before running a hand over the scar that was the parting gift of a madman whose dreams of racial purity would have devastated the Solar System in a way not seen since the War of Wrath ended a thousand years ago.

'_I love you, mommy…'_

Natarle fought back the tears, and covered her mouth, trying to silence the sobs. She remembered trying to maintain her composure when the doctor had told her that the wound Murata Azrael had inflicted on her had taken from her the ability to have children. She remembered the expression on both the faces of her parents and relatives when she told them the news. They had been bitterly disappointed; they had hoped to marry her to the son of an influential EA politician in order to increase their influence within both the Eurasian Alliance and the Atlantic Federation. Disappointment swiftly became anger when her family learnt that she had had a hand in Azrael's death; despite their dislike of him, the Blue Cosmos leader was an individual whose friendship would be beneficial to the family's long-term goal of unifying the Solar System. It was then that Natarle realized that the ideals her family claimed to champion had long ago been lost; no longer did the Badgiruel family strive to defend the world that the last Empress of the Dominion had entrusted to them. Now they cared more about accumulating wealth and power.

"_You may be one of the few left in my family that has the pride and dignity of our ancestors, Natarle,"_ her grandfather had told her, _"And you are right: Murata Azrael is a hyena who deserved to die. I loathe everything he and those like him stand for. Coordinators, for all their superior attributes, are as human – and thus, as flawed – as we 'Naturals' are. We love, we make mistakes, we feel pain, we cry…and we hope for a better tomorrow than the past we left behind…"_ and his eyes became distant, misty, _"I have something to tell you, Natarle…but please keep this between you, me and the four walls."_

That was when her grandfather revealed that he had, long ago, when he had been a young man, fallen in love with a Coordinator girl. The latter was a citizen of the Martian state of Lordaeron and had transferred into her grandfather's University as part of a student exchange program. Beautiful and gentle, with a voice that surpassed even those of her peers, she was the University's diva. But that was not all: she was also a skilled fencer – and Natarle learnt that her grandfather had been handed his backside more times than he could count, and was forced to pay for his defeats in the boxed lunches and dinners he had promised his archrival. She remembered how grandfather's eyes twinkled as he spoke of his past. They had been full of life, pride and joy. Had things been different, her grandfather had told her, Christina Campbell of Lordaeron would have been her grandmother.

He would have chosen her over the girl his parents had insisted he marry in order to cement an alliance with the Badgiruel clan's political rivals. It was only five years later that he received a letter from her – as well as a picture of both her and their child, conceived on the night prior to Christina leaving for Mars. There was no doubt in her grandfather's mind that the child was his; the boy looked exactly like him, down to the dimpled grin, when he had been a child himself. Her grandfather had shown Natarle the hand-written letter and the picture he had received her all those years ago, yellow with age and kept close to his heart. To him, it was a treasure worth more than all the trophies and relics kept within the family's vaults.

She saw the words written at the end of the letter by a child's unsteady hand: _I love you, papa._

It was a simple declaration, but it clearly had meant the world to Natarle's grandfather. It was the one thing that gave him the strength needed to lead his family and motivated him to fight for peace and the eventual unification of the Earth Sphere. The secession of the PLANTs from Earth and the destruction of Junius-7 would destroy over thirty years of work and effort. Natarle had remembered seeing her grandfather on the news, shouting down the entire Earth Alliance Senate that day, his words a grim promise to the millions that lived within (and outside) Earth Sphere: _"This war will not end even when the guns of both the armies of Earth and PLANT are lowered. It will not end even when the heroes of the human race are sacrificed on the altar to bring back the peace we cast aside without a second thought. I say this to my enemies: I, and those like myself, stand humbled. Your desire to wage war was greater than our strength to prevent it; your vision of racial purity, more glorious than the future we had hoped to build. My compatriots and I will stand in your way no longer; there is no more point. We have crossed the Rubicon, and burned the bridge. But know this: there will be a reckoning for what you, in your jealousy and hate, have wrought this day."_

Her grandfather's words had proved prophetic. Even though the Bloody Valentine War had ended, the extremists who had started the war wanted to fan the embers back into a raging inferno. And here she was, trying to succeed where her grandfather had failed. But had he? Her grandfather's charisma and intellect had seen to it that some of his generation's most infamous terrorists had laid down their arms and let go of their anger. But Natarle was not her grandfather. She lacked the older man's gift to end wars bloodlessly. All she had was the desire to see it end, no matter the cost.

"_And that,_" her grandfather had told her several months back, _"is all that you will ever need. Our methods may differ, Natarle, but the end we seek is the same. You are not me, Natarle. Don't even try to follow in my footsteps, for you will stumble far too many times before you succeed. I hate to say this, but the times you – and your generation – live in is one where a single misstep is all it takes to undo what so many have died trying to bring about. You are a warrior, Natarle. You always have been, and you always will be. But you are no longer the instrument in which the unjust will impose their will upon the world__.__ You are Truth, the sword that rests in the hands of Justice, and which the guilty and the fallen tremble at the sight of__.__"_

**X X**

"You know, Kira…I had a boyfriend once. I met him back in my younger days when I was doing my degree in Arts and Humanities. His name was – is – Asuran Ibrahim. He was like la Flaga in many ways: a playboy with a big heart, a sense of humor and a love of history. His one goal in life was to compile a full and accurate narrative of the events that had led to the fall of the Dominion and the years after. He and his friends could go on for hours making up theories and stories of that period in history," she smiled, "I was one of the many girls who sat around them, listening to their debates, taking notes. Their discussions inspired many of my works…"

"Can I read them someday?"

"Certainly," Natarle replied, before her lips curved mischievously, "Just don't criticize me too harshly…"

"You'd toss me out of the air-lock if I did," the Kira replied stonily, "And what makes you think I would criticize you?"

"Some of my works…" the dark-haired commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ hesitated briefly, "are unfinished. And some are based off the works of others, albeit in a form different from the original. The one story Asuran loved best and the one I managed to complete was the one I based off Sylvia Thompson's account of the Antarian-Betelgeusian War. It was difficult finding references to it. I had to order a book directly from a Martian publisher; my parents were furious when they found out just how much it had cost."

"How much did it cost?"

"Close to 3,000 Earth Dollars," Natarle turned away, embarrassed, "It was pocket change when one takes into account how rich my family was, but it infuriated my parents when they found out. It was an investment without a return. I pointed out to them that many of my cousins had hobbies far more expensive than my own."

Kira struggled to maintain his composure. Three thousand Earth Dollars was no small sum; it could easily feed a family of four for three months. He paused, as something the older woman said sank in, leading him to remember a conversation he had had with his friends back when they all served aboard the _Archangel_. Sai had once told him that the Badgiruel family was an extremely rich and influential family. They were also very old, and had seen the first days of the Solar Empire and – if their claims were true – among its chief architects. Driven by curiosity, he asked Natarle if she was part of _the_ Badgiruel family that Sai believed she was from – or merely had the same name as they.

Natarle nodded, "Yes, Kira. I am from _the_ Badgiruel family. And yes, the claims about our family having seen the first days of the Solar Empire are true. We have relics dating back from that era."

"Is your sword from that period as well?" Kira asked, his eyes gazing at an object that rested against a nearby pillar. Natarle followed his gaze, and her eyes widened. There, in all its glory, was her family's heirloom sword, _Excalibur_.

**X X**

"_That is why I want you,"_ her grandfather said as he removed an ornate sword from its resting place, _"to have this, the sword once wielded by our ancestor during the Siege of Terra. It is to remind you of what you have learnt – and what you have lost. Its name is Excalibur. It was forged during the reign of the third Emperor of the Solar Empire. It has, as you have already guessed, seen so many battles in the four thousand years since its forging that all the days of our lives cannot even begin to compare. The last time it was taken out of the case had been during the war between Earth and Mars over a hundred years ago."_

Natarle turned to look at her grandfather's gift, which rested on a stand on one of the shelves next to her bed. A knot wound around the sword's cross-hilt and through a steel loop secured the ancient weapon in its scabbard. The dark-haired commander rose from her chair and lifted _Excalibur_ off its stand, before pulling the knot that bound it in a single, smooth motion, and drawing the blade.

Natarle had learnt from Asuran more than just the history of the Imperial Dominion and its most prominent individuals, but also the weapons wielded by its soldiers and the tactics utilized by its generals.

Excalibur was a high-frequency sword, a weapon whose use was widespread in the armies of humanity's many star-spanning republics. A deadly weapon, it could cut through the tough hide of the Tsar-Kor Orks and chitinous armor of the Zerg. The fact that Excalibur had yet to shatter despite the many battles it had seen told Natarle that her ancestor had taken the precaution of ensuring that his weapon would not fail him in mid-battle – and that it would last as long as his family did.

Natarle had to admit that her ancestor had excellent taste. Excalibur was more than a weapon of war; it was also a work of art. Indeed, she could almost understand the reason why her ancestor had named his sword after that of the legendary King of Britain. No other name she could think of could properly capture the mesmerizing confluence of danger and beauty of such a weapon. And it was only recently that Natarle had begun to understand the symbolism of her grandfather giving her the sword.

Excalibur: the sword of destiny, the legendary blade which selects he who would be monarch…

If Natarle was playing the role of King Arthur, then her grandfather was playing the role of the rock in which the legendary weapon had once rested in. His giving it to her was his way of saying that he was entrusting to her the difficult task of not only restoring the lost pride and dignity of their family, but to also complete the task that time would not allow him to: restoring the unity of the Earth Sphere.

The dark-haired commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ thumbed Excalibur's activation rune, and the blade started to vibrate at speeds faster than the eye could follow. Natarle swung the sword, marveling at its balance and the way it felt like a natural extension of her arm. The way the sword hummed was as if it was singing, and its lyrics were one the dark-haired officer knew by heart. Dedication, duty and honor were the themes; glory, defiance and hardship the instruments of which the song was played; love and pain the voice in which the song was sung.

And it made Natarle's heart ache.

**X X**

"Yes, Kira," Natarle replied as she pushed herself up, allowing the blanket that had covered both her and Kira to slip from her naked body to slip off her, "it was. My grandfather gave it to me as a gift, much to the displeasure of many of my relatives – some of whom are vying to be the next family head." (1)

"Why…?"

Unashamed of her nakedness, Natarle strode towards the sword and pulled it out of the scabbard, her eyes taking in the peerless skill that had gone into its creation, "Excalibur is the symbol of my family, Kira. For my grandfather to have given me the sword was akin to declaring to everyone that I was to be his successor. Many of my relatives – including my parents – asked that I return the sword in order to prevent a rift from forming in the family. I told them that I was on a mission…and that I would not be able to return to Earth anytime soon. That will give me the time I need to see if the new family head is worthy of Excalibur. If he is, then I will surrender it."

"But what if that was his intention? To name you as his successor, I mean."

"Then," Natarle looked over her shoulder at her lover, a teasing smile on her lips, "I will have no choice but to get married. Though I am pretty sure I will leave many of my relatives shocked – and no few jealous –when they find out just who I married…"

Kira chuckled, "I doubt Fllay and the rest would simply stand by and let you have your way. Cagalli would be the first in line to throw you out the airlock for so much as suggesting it."

"They will, if they know what's good for them," Natarle's smile became predatory, "Unless they don't mind sharing…"

Natarle's mental processes came to a screeching halt. Did she just say that…? The interested, playful look on Kira's face told her that she had – and that she had dug herself into a pit too deep to get out of. It did not help that said pit was crawling with crocodiles and the only means of escape guarded by grinning imps who were all too eager to watch her die. Kira proceeded to pour petrol onto the flames; the suggestions and innuendos the grinning Coordinator threw her way almost causing the regal commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ to suffer a meltdown. Natarle proceeded to end the former's baiting by throwing her army jacket at him, scowling. Good Lord, just what had Kira been reading? Did la Flaga throw Kira his stash of erotic novels? If he did, Natarle would not hesitate to throw the man under the bus the next time she met him, his marriage to Murrue be damned.

It would only be a matter of time before Murrue Ramius of the SENTINELs became a mother, at which point Natarle would fear for every pretty girl in the neighborhood the la Flaga family would settle in. Natarle drew in a deep breath and ran a hand over her lower belly, tracing the scar that marked both the end of the Bloody Valentine War and her ability to have children.

'_Not yet, but soon…' _her daughter's voice echoed in her ears.

It was a promise. How it would be kept, Natarle did not know. The damage was beyond even the PLANTs' advanced medical technology to heal. She turned to look at Kira, remembering what he has told her in the dream she had weeks before…and what had transpired prior to her waking up. If dreams were a portent of things to come, then the image of the lush paradise that she had stood on becoming hell was the fate that would befall the Earth Sphere. That was not the world Natarle wanted her daughter to live in.

"One day, if it were possible, Kira…" Natarle said as she turned her eyes to the stars that were visible through the gaping hole in the café's ceiling, "I would like to bring you to my family's main estate in America to meet my grandfather – and my parents. I would never hear the end of it from either of them, but my grandfather would definitely approve of you. And God knows my grandfather could use a friend…especially one that is not seeking to take advantage of him."

**X X **

"_Murrue Ramius of the SENTINELs is to you what Siegfried was to me. Christina taught me how to love. Siegfried taught me how to rule – and he taught me not by words, but by example. I have to admit that his lessons were anything but gentle. I remembered ending up in hospital after one of his 'lessons' and out of money on another. But it was because of him that I could govern a family as fractious as ours, and deal with snakes who would love nothing more than to squander the wealth we have amassed across the centuries._

"_My one regret, Natarle, was that neither I nor those who had endured Siegfried's 'lessons' had ever thanked him for them. He was as young as we were, but the wisdom he possessed was something many of us would have traded our dearest possessions for. He knew, somehow, someday, all of those he mentored would move the world – and he wanted it to be moved to an ending better than any fairy-tale."_

Siegfried Krueger had been that standard her grandfather had measured himself against. Though he had died over a decade ago at the age of 55, survived by two sons and seven grandchildren, he had left a mark on the society he had served to his dying breath. His funeral was attended by those whom he had helped over the years as a social worker…as well as his former mentees who, upon hearing that their former mentor had passed on, rushed to attend the wake. Natarle's grandfather had chuckled, remembering the stunned silence that had gripped the church as he and his former schoolmates strode in.

And honestly, who could blame them? It was not every day one saw three military officers, two from the Earth Alliance and one from the Equatorial Union, the (former) vice-chairman of EA's Internal Security Agency and his wife (and aide), as well as two actresses, a renowned author, a respected political analyst and the head of a powerful family come in person to pay their respects to a mere social worker. It had been her grandfather who had taken tradition by the throat and throttled the life out of it by raising a toast to Siegfried. He silenced the outrage that had followed by telling the entire congregation stories of days long past in which the departed had featured prominently.

Natarle knew what her grandfather had been trying to tell her. It took one person – and one act – to change the course of history. The dark-haired commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ raised Excalibur and studied her reflection on its polished surface. She, like her grandfather, had never thanked Kira for saving her life. Never thanked him for showing her a path which gave meaning to the uniform she now wore and the reasons for which she now fought.

"_Siegfried taught me that power, like fear, is a slave that longs to be the master. Fear, like power, has many faces. Hate is one of those faces. The Blue Cosmos hate the Coordinators because they fear them – and are jealous of them. Who wouldn't be? The Coordinators are superior to us Naturals in every way. We made them to be superior, Natarle, but we never made them to be more than human. They reacted the same way we would have had we been in their position._

"_The Bloody Valentine War was the culmination of decades of animosity between Naturals and Coordinators. The countless that have perished in that insane war is a testament to our race's inability to learn from past mistakes. And the seeds we have sown in our hatred have borne a bloody fruit, one that we must swiftly pluck before more die._

"_There are three ways to bring peace to the Earth Sphere. The first is that those who have engineered the war be made to see reason, something I doubt they will do. The second is that those who have engineered the war – wealthy and influential individuals – be removed from the board entirely. The third is that the Earth Sphere faces an external threat – one that will not side with ANY faction – and forces them to unite in the face of a common enemy."_

Murrue told her months after the Bloody Valentine War ended that Admiral Halberton's primary aim in Project-G was not only to break the stalemate between Earth and PLANT and to force the latter's ruling council to consider peace talks before the hardliners within the former's administration took power, but to send a warning to the other hegemonies outside the Earth Sphere to not take advantage of its instability. Not that they would care, Natarle added as an afterthought. As long as their investments on Earth and the PLANTs were not threatened, they could care less with how the war between the two factions went. It was, the dark-haired commander thought, almost like in the war-torn years of the 21st century. Citizens of one country hardly cared what happened to the inhabitants of another; they were out of sight and, thus, out of mind. Even if they did care, what could they do? The power to make a difference was in the hands of the select few, and these were more interested in ensuring the continued prosperity of their families (or themselves) and their supporters.

But, that may soon change. Prior to the _Shield of Destiny_ leaving Earth, one of Natarle's former classmates (who worked in Military Intelligence) had told her that there was an indication that the two major superpowers in the Martian Dominion – the Reyguard Empire and Lordaeron – are massing their armies to crush the Martian Free States Coalition once and for all. She had presented the report to her superiors, along with a prognosis that the latter had regarded as utter nonsense.

Even Natarle herself had to admit that her friend's prediction that the Martian Dominion would invade the Earth Sphere was taking paranoia one step too far…and yet it was the one thing that caused the commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ – and no few heads of state – to study the holographic map of the Earth Sphere whenever she (and they) had the time, and to read what was known about the weapons and capabilities of both the Empire and Lordaeron. Suffice to say what she learnt had left Natarle with the knowledge that should the Empire or Lordaeron declare war on a _**divided**_ Earth Sphere, it was a matter of _**when**_one of the last hegemonies within the Solar System not under the rule of Lordaeron or the Empire fell, not _**if**_.

The dark-haired commander shook her head and sheathed Excalibur, before returning the sword to its resting place. What mattered now was to remove those who are a threat to the peace so many have given their lives for. And when that was done, they could deal with the threat beyond the Earth Sphere's borders, should it come.

**X X**

"What is it like? Your home, I mean," Kira asked.

Natarle smiled, and her eyes became distant, remembering the vast land that was the demesne of the Badgiruel family for over a thousand years. She remembered the mountains, whose snow-shrouded summits pierced the skies, and the forests and lakes that had never seen the scouring hand of war, and how beautiful they were in the backdrop of the stars. Over a thousand acres had been given over to agriculture, tended by dozens of families under the employ of Natarle's aunt, whom the dark-haired officer remembered as a plump, matronly woman with a big heart and a bigger smile. The nearby town of St. Voltaire was home to over twenty thousand souls and was twenty minutes away from the two military bases in the region. All three were run by Natarle's relatives, an arrangement which had left no few senators in the Earth Alliance Parliament and activists from making their displeasure known.

"It's big, for one thing…" Natarle fought to keep her voice steady, even as the words brought up memories of her childhood, "Mountains, lakes, forests…it was the perfect place for a vacation. And the clam chowder and spiced crabs sold at its restaurants is to die for…"

Kira started laughing, a sound of merriment that caused Natarle to remember who exactly it was she was talking to. It took several minutes for the young man to regain his composure, by which time Natarle found herself twitching with annoyance.

"What's so funny?" Natarle tried to regain whatever dignity Kira had effortlessly shredded in his explosion of mirth.

"You…" the young Coordinator grinned, "You were almost drooling when you mentioned your home town's delicacies. Are they really that good?"

"Believe it," Natarle replied, pride in her voice.

Kira stood up, then, an act that caused Natarle to turn red and avert her eyes. But the brief glimpse – and the memory of – that lean, naked body on her (and in her, her mind whispered treacherously) had been more than enough to re-ignite the reckless abandon that a part of her reveled in. Kira was taller than back when she first met him, the older woman realized. When they had served together on the _Archangel_, Natarle had had to lower her head in order to talk to him. Now, she no longer had to. The young teenager was growing into a man – one, Natarle knew, that women would gladly cross swords over. The amethyst eyes that gazed into her own were mesmerizing, a window into an eternity worth more than all the riches in Creation.

"Then I'd better make it a point to visit some of the restaurants in your home-town when we visit your grandfather," Kira replied, as he took Natarle into his arms, the hard phallus of the Coordinator pressing insistently against her pubic mound, hungering to be sheathed in the warmth of her body once more, "Because I have a feeling our daughter will have an appetite to put a starving tiger's to shame."

Natarle licked her lips, and took her young lover's face in her hands, pushing her full breasts and her lean body against his. It was time to beard the lion in its own den, "You'd have to feed me first, boya."

Kira's amethyst eyes turned to a fearsome shade of gold, but the smile he gave the older woman turned her blood to steam, "I have no problems with that…"

**X X**

Natarle pressed a small button on her desk, allowing the inbuilt mainframe to power up and link up with the EA's military IPCS network. The translucent screen that rose from the desk displayed the emblem of Earth Alliance as well as the pledge of allegiance in cursive script inherited from an Empire whose time had long passed before the main interface panels appeared. A musical chime informed Natarle that she had new messages in her inbox, the contents of which, after she had read them, surprised her.

Her superiors in Washington had decided to make last-minute changes to the mission roster by sending three additional ships, namely the _Acheron_, the _Charon_ and the _Wraith_. All three Nelson-class battleships were crewed by the support elements of the Earth Alliance's three primary Special Forces divisions. The first was the Sabertooth Legion, whose reputation for infiltration and surgical strikes had left more than one ZAFT field commander looking over his or her shoulder for the inevitable bullet that would spell the (permanent) end of his or her career. The second Special Forces group was known as the Einherjar. Based in Europe, they operated in the African theatre, fighting against the Desert Tiger's army during the Bloody Valentine War. The Einherjar specialized in reconnaissance and swift tactical strikes that left their enemies struggling to respond, a useful skill when one considered the caliber of the divisions under the Desert Tiger's command.

The third group was Cerberus, the Earth Alliance's recently-formed counter-terrorism agency. Its agents were the first line of defense against the extremist groups that the Earth Sphere governments wanted crushed. The president of the Earth Alliance, John Copeland, had seen to it that Cerberus was given the training and the equipment – as well as the powers – that would allow its members to do exactly that. But, unlike Sabertooth and Einherjar, Cerberus was more of an elite police unit than a military unit. It was also the only organization within the Earth Alliance where Coordinators and Naturals worked side by side.

The second message came from Natarle's friend within Military Intelligence, which caused the commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ to shiver without knowing the reason why. The Seiran Family, a noble House of Orb, had recently been seeking closer relations with the Atlantic Federation, one of the two hegemonies in the Earth Sphere that formed the Earth Alliance (2). Their most recent agreement with the Federation had seen to it that Orb would be able to purchase the EA's newest Behemoth-class battle-cruisers in exchange for Orb's blue-prints for its fusion reactors and orbital defense gun technology (3). Cagalli Zala, ruler of Orb, approved of the exchange. That detail, in particular, had made Natarle re-read the entire paragraph. Cagalli, agreeing with her political rivals…? She expected a pig to fly by soon. Natarle knew that the Seiran family was particularly insulted that Cagalli had chosen to dissolve whatever agreement her father had made with the oldest of Orb's founding families in order to marry Kira's childhood friend, Athrun Zala. They had demanded the Lioness of Orb dissolve the marriage and wed one of its scions, but the Lioness of Orb and her mate were not easily intimidated. Cagalli's pregnancy and the birth of her twin daughters had forced the Seiran family to withdraw their demands.

'_But not their enmity,'_ Natarle added mentally. There was no doubt in Natarle's mind that the Seiran family was waiting for the right time to claim the throne it believed was theirs. The commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ glanced at the small picture her friend had attached to the message: it was that of a white king being castled, and of his subordinates taking up positions on the chessboard against an opponent who had the advantage of striking at any of his heavily-defended positions. Should the black player attack, he would suffer terrible losses.

But, that was not what drew Natarle's attention. What drew her was that, in the same square as the castled white king, was a black pawn.

**X X**

Natarle crashed down onto Kira's body, the plummet from the pinnacle of ecstasy accompanied by a scream of passion that would have woken the dead. The golden irises of her lover blazed brilliantly before returning to the normal shade of amethyst that reminded Natarle of twilight. The older woman shuddered in her young lover's embrace, the warmth that suffused her body making her incapable of speaking or thinking coherently. It took her a full ten minutes before she could finally do so, and her return to lucidity was accompanied by Kira singing.

It was a song Natarle had heard many times on the radio over the last two years – and one she listened to in private. Composed by Lacus Clyne in the aftermath of the Bloody Valentine War, it was a tribute to those had died in its flames. To hear it made Natarle's heart ache, especially since she knew for whom the song was meant for.

"Kira," Natarle asked, "Have you ever…visited Lacus like this?"

"Yes, I have…" the young man's voice, when he replied after a long silence, was rough with emotion. His grip around Natarle tightened, "She has never forgiven herself for letting me die. I told her that it was not her fault. I returned to the war willingly. I knew the price of doing so, as did she when she gave me the Freedom. But, even so…I…"

Natarle put a finger to Kira's lips, a sad smile on her face. Even in death, the young Coordinator had changed little. And even across the Styx, he prayed for those he left behind and the imperfect world he had given his life to defend. No, he would never change. She remembered the terrible lion she had seen in her previous dream, majestic and terrible – a harbinger of wrath and vengeance – and knew that only a terrible epiphany would turn a gentle soul like Kira's into a monster.

"I've heard it said that the past is what it is," Natarle whispered softly, "and that there is nothing anyone can do or say to change it. That is why it tortures those who remain. We wonder if things would have turned out differently had we acted otherwise. Fllay and I both know the extent of our sins…and the price that we must pay to be able to absolve ourselves of them. That we are together makes the burden bearable. Your sister has Athrun and her daughters…"

Kira's eyes widened at that revelation, but he chose not to speak.

"But Miss Lacus has no one with which to share the pain. No one to tell her that your death was not her fault; no one to tell her to be strong; no one to tell her that, one day, the pain will go away. All she has is the duty of ensuring that the peace which had been won at the cost of so many lives does not fall apart. If it did, it may deal her a blow from which she may never recover."

The amethyst-eyed Coordinator shook his head, "Lacus is a strong woman, Natarle. She will not break that easily. She knows that lasting peace is impossible but it does not stop her from trying to achieve it, all the same. It is not in her nature to give up. Lacus can be as bad as Cagalli; telling her to give up is akin to telling fire not to burn."

"That is…" Natarle remembered the explosive temper of the Lioness of Orb, "hard to imagine."

"Believe it. Lacus has the strength and wisdom found in those rare few who could unite opposing factions. That strength will be needed in the days to come," Kira said as he turned his gaze on the stars that were visible through the hole above them. He frowned as the stars faded as clouds of the darkest crimson extinguished their light, and the sound of thunder, like the heartbeat of some great beast, resounded in the distance.

"Kira…"

"And those days," the young man added, "are coming closer."

**X X**

Natarle closed the message her friend had sent her, "Thanks, Marie. I owe you one for this."

Outside of informing her of the Seiran family's intentions, Marie was also telling Natarle to keep a wary eye on her superiors – especially those who were known to have links with the Blue Cosmos. Many of them believed that Natarle was in some way responsible for the death of Murata Azrael, an accusation they could not maintain due to lack of evidence – and the fact that Natarle's new commanding officer would not tolerate such aspersions being cast at someone she had personally invited to transfer to her division.

Field Marshall Ryubi Gentoku, the Eastern Dragon, commander of EA-Japan's Northern Army Group and Admiral of the 11th Earth Alliance Flotilla, had made it no secret that she had high hopes for the former commander of the _Dominion_. Natarle remembered the enigmatic smile that curved the stern, regal face of the woman who was responsible for retaking Kaohsiung Base from ZAFT and the parting words in the letter the latter had handed her:

"**The day will come when I will no longer be able to protect you. Be ready.**

**P.S.: Please do tell me about him when we next meet."**

Natarle smiled; her fellow officers in the 11th EA Flotilla had not been lying when they said their commanding officer was scary. Field Marshall Ryubi Gentoku was capable of discerning the capabilities and motivations of those under her command. It was that rare skill that allowed the Eastern Dragon to build one of the most effective fighting forces in the Earth Sphere. Her archrival and former classmate, Sousou Kusanagi, commander of EA-Japan's Southern Army Group and Admiral of the 97th and 213th Earth Alliance Flotilla, was perhaps the only person who surpassed her. Natarle could almost sympathize with Sonken Sumeragi, EA-Japan's CAF Supreme Commander. Dealing with the Eastern Dragon and the Red Emperor (as Sousou was called by his peers), was a headache of a magnitude as bad as dealing with ZAFT's Bloody Empress, Ryofu Housen, or the one they called the Hydra, Saji Genpou. The two had been one of the many terrors ZAFT had unleashed on the EA-aligned Republic of East Asia during the Bloody Valentine War.

The commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ opened the next message, this one from her grandfather, who asked how she was doing and to send his regards to Natarle's commanding officer – and a request that they have a game of chess when she had the chance to drop by the main Badgiruel estate.

The fourth came from Natarle's uncle, Admiral Alexander Badgiruel, who commanded the 12th and 41st Earth Alliance flotillas, who were tasked with the defense of the Earth Alliance capital, Washington, from orbit. That task had been made easier with the construction of the mega-carrier, _Sandalphon_, which was based off a Dominion-era Standard Construction Template (SCT) the military had purchased from a Junker group called the Iron Throne, and which acted as her uncle's flagship. Alexander's message was short and terse, as was expected from a man who had been in the military all his life. He told her not to fail and that if she needed any assistance, to call him.

"Thanks, uncle."

Natarle closed several windows, and pulled out the mission roster. In total, the task force would consist of at least 15 ships, some sixty MS (including the newly-created Animus-class Gundams), and over three thousand men and women she knew were some of the best the armed forces of the Earth Sphere had to offer. The commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ hoped it would be enough.

**X X**

The camp-fire that illuminated the beach café Kira and Natarle took refuge in cracked violently suddenly flared, blinding Natarle with its incandescent brilliance. When her vision cleared, she saw herself standing on a cliff overlooking a city she knew all too well: Los Angeles, one of the largest population centers in the Earth Sphere.

And it was under attack.

_The sounds of battle filled the air, the harsh laughter of the red-garbed Horseman of the Apocalypse and the whispered edict of her ashen-garbed sibling. The two rode into the city, the instruments of their respective trades taking the lives of both soldier and civilian. Natarle could see fierce gun-battles rage between Earth Alliance troops and grey-armored soldiers armed with energy rifles and katanas. The latter were further reinforced by warriors clad in ornate blue and gold armor, who strode into the gun-battles with the fearless determination of men and women who knew they belonged nowhere else, their guns cutting a bloody swathe through the defenders._

_Above her, in the blackened skies, Natarle saw black jet fighters and white-armored attack copters of an unknown configuration, each marked with a crimson sunburst on a white background, duel with EA fighters and rake the ground with rocket volleys and auto-cannon fire__.__ Scores of armored gunships bearing the stylized sigil of a tiger's claw brave anti-aircraft fire, their mounted guns blazing, as they swooped into various sections of the city and set squads of armored soldiers on the ground._

_She saw a massive island fortress floating off the Santa Monica bay, surrounded by scores of elegant yet deadly warships, and scores of amphibious tanks and transports making landfall. It did not take an idiot to know that Los Angeles and its defenders were doomed. The military bases situated on the metropolis's outskirts were under heavy attack, and those within the city were slowly being cut off from support and escape. _

"_Your Highness…!" a voice called out, and Natarle turned to see a dozen figures descend from the skies to kneel before her. All of them were clad in gleaming, battle-scarred armor and wielding menacing, long-barreled rifles. On the backs of each was a jump-pack array shaped like the wings of angels, glowing blue and silver. Before Natarle could ask who they were, a voice behind the commander of the Shield of Destiny caused her to turn._

"_Yes, lieutenant…?"_

_It was not the army that was assembled behind her that caught Natarle's attention. It was not the massive ship that hovered overhead that took her breath away. It was the woman who stood before her. Clad in ornate golden armor over robes of blue and gold, a winged helmet with a crimson plume tucked under one arm, holding a sword in one armored fist…was Natarle herself._

Natarle took a step back, unable to believe what she was seeing. She blinked once…

…and the vision changed back to the peaceful, nocturnal paradise where she and Kira had lain under. The young Coordinator looked at Natarle, the anguish in them deeper than an ocean trench. The dark-haired officer licked her lips and tried to speak, but ended up coughing violently, the _taste _of a doomed city causing her to choke.

"What was that…?" Natarle finally asked.

The young Coordinator held out a bottle of water, which Natarle emptied in one gulp.

"Fate is a frightening thing, Natarle. It is one of the few forces in Creation that God finds is almost beyond His control. Everything that lives under God's shadow is subject to its whims, for good or ill. There are those who seek to cross the stars, but the price of doing so is high," Kira replied, "The vision you saw, Natarle, is a war a thousand years in the making."

"Eh…?"

"Everything you saw…our daughter…the wars that will take place and the people who will fight in them," Kira continued, "All of it will come to pass. The stage is being set, and the cast is being assembled. I have seen what you have seen as well, Natarle…" and his expression hardened, "And I saw the monumental price that would be paid. No matter how the story ends, thousands will pay the price. And no, Natarle; there is nothing **anyone** can do can prevent this. There are people – and powers – greater than you or I whose actions and ambitions have ordained what is to come."

Kira pulled on a pair of trousers and strode out onto the beach. Natarle, after throwing the blanket around her naked body, followed him. She found Kira kneeling next to a small pool which reflected the stars above and kneel down before it, "In one such dream, I saw myself – or rather, myself as Cain and Abel, in a duel to the death…" and he studied his reflection, "Both of them were mirror images of each other. Same face, same swords, same scar…but their motivations were as different as night was from day."

Natarle, being Christian, was familiar with the legend of Cain and Abel. Unfortunately, the only thing that was known about the two brothers was how their encounter had ended. But that made little sense; Natarle was aware that Kira's only blood-relation was his twin and the ruler of Orb, Cagalli. Was it possible that there was a third sibling that neither Kira nor Cagalli were aware of? Or was it something to do with Cagalli's husband and Kira's closest friend, Athrun Zala, who had more than once claimed Kira as the brother he never had? Natarle put a hand to her temple, trying to ward off an impending headache. Everything she knew about Kira was hearsay and what she had learnt from their brief time together. She had tried to find Kira's foster-parents, but to no avail. It was as if the two had never existed. They had disappeared around the same time Orb's former ruler, Lord Azuma Attha, had died during the EA's invasion of the country – something Natarle found strange.

Kira suddenly looked up and turned around, an act that caused Natarle to reach for her absent gun and whirl. There, standing before the ruined buildings, was a gigantic, armored giant over two meters in height, a thick mane of crimson-gold hair fluttering in the wind. A furred mantle of blue and silver framed the giant's form, and Natarle could see a multi-segmented tail sway lazily from side to side. The giant held a massive, twin-pronged spear in one armored hand. Natarle felt the giant's lambent, imperious gaze sweep over her, and fought an overpowering urge to kneel. It nodded towards her in acknowledgement before turning its gaze towards Kira, an unspoken command in that simple gesture.

"It's time, Natarle. I must go."

"Go? Go where…?" and Kira placed a finger on her lips, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry. Even I do not know what is about to happen. Dreams can only tell you what you need to know and nothing more. Since I have seen our daughter," and he smiled briefly, "I know that we will have one…and soon. And now, I must go to the others and show them their dreams. And it will be ones none of them will like. And if he had personally gotten himself involved…it means that they have raised the ante."

Natarle followed Kira's gaze to where the armored giant waited patiently. But the dark-haired woman did not care; there were so many questions that needed answering, so many things she wanted to say. The giant could wait a few minutes longer.

"Who are you going to see next?"

"Fllay…"

"You are going to show..."

"Yes."

"Why?" Natarle asked, "Why would you do that? She has never gotten over what she had done to you, Kira. This could break her."

"And that is why she must see it. Soon, she will have to make a decision – and it is best that she be made aware of the outcome of one of those choices. And she is not the only one, Natarle. Soon, you, Lacus, Athrun and many, many others will be called upon to make a choice."

**X X**

Natarle shook her head. One part of her told her to pay no attention to her dreams, while another told her to take heed. The Eastern Dragon had once told her that dreams were a window to the designs of the gods and a place where one can meet one's beloved. Sleep was, according to a philosopher of ancient Greece, the brother of Death. It was not so much a stretch of logic to conclude that the former had much of the powers of the latter. And if Natarle's dreams were an indication of the fate that was to befall the Earth Sphere, then she would do all she can to ensure that it never come to pass.

Natarle's thoughts turned to the results of her inquiry the night before (5). A 98% correlation sent whatever doubt or disbelief she had had out the window, and cemented her decision to share her findings with those who had stood beside a young man to bring an end to an insane war. Prior to opening an IPCS channel to the supreme commander of the SENTINELs, she took the necessary precautions of ensuring that their conversation – and any data exchange – would be kept private. There were no few people in Earth Alliance High Command who had been less than pleased that such a useful individual had been allowed to slip through their fingers, no thanks to the few people who were determined to keep him out of their hands. And Natarle would make sure no one in the Earth Alliance – or ZAFT, for that matter – would learn what she knew.

The dark-haired commander of the _Shield of Destiny _stood up. It would take a while for the IPCS system to connect, enough time for her to freshen up and make some coffee. As she entered the bathroom, she did not see the picture of Kira start to crack, dividing the face of the pilot of Freedom into two. One half was shrouded in darkness, the other, in light. Even when Natarle Badgiruel saw the crack much later, she dismissed it, never realizing that it was an omen of things to come.

**(O)**

_**Neo-Stratos, Indigo Palace Hotel**_

Ko Shiatar, the Unforgiving Raven, threw back the Royal Crusade. It was the most potent – and expensive – drink the hotel had in its inventory, and it served to calm the mercenary's nerves. Few things could unnerve her, and the power of her masters was one of them. And she had drunk deep of it. It was enough to make a man believe in God, and pray for His divine protection.

No one in Creation next to God Himself could match the power of the one who pulled the Unforgiving Raven's strings.

If there was, the Order's assassins would have silenced them long ago. The Raven refilled her glass and emptied it once more in short order. The only one who was a threat to the Raven's masters died long ago, when the Templar Legions of the Order cast the Imperial Eagle down into the mud for its manifold crimes.

The Raven stood up and looked out the window of her suite, taking in the glorious sight before her. One day, she would be free. How she envied her younger half-sister, who ran off with ZAFT's Desert Tiger. Had Ko Shiatar done the same, she would be free to live as she chose instead of being bound to the ambitions of individuals whose goals bordered on insane. But there was a chance that the strings of Fate could be wrested from the hands of those who desired its subordination for their selfish ends.

And it all rested on who would win the Legacy.

**(O)**

_**And the wheel of fate, long rusted with the passage of ten centuries, started turning…and the sound of its turning was heard in the dreams of many.**_

**(O)**

She saw the end of her hopes and dreams. She saw the Earth Sphere burn. She saw the young man she had sacrificed on the altar of battle for the sake of her dreams standing before her, majestic as a king could be in his armor and robes, surrounded by the bloodied bodies of those he had slain. His amethyst eyes, once so full of love and warmth, were hard and full of hate. A hate, like the gun he held in one armored fist, that was directed at her. The intensity of his loathing matched the fierce battle that raged beyond the armored glass that separated the life-supporting interiors of a ship the songstress knew all too well and the cold, starry void beyond it.

The songstress lowered her head, allowing her soft, pink locks to hide her tears. She whispered the name of her beloved in a voice rich with pain, voicing one question out of the many she had. The young King's reply caused the lovely songstress to flinch, as if the former had struck the latter. The songstress then asked another question, this one causing the young man she loved to hesitate. It was a full minute before he replied…and it caused the songstress to throw her head back, allowing the young King to see the sad, gentle smile on her face.

It was only then that the songstress saw the individual who had guided her beloved onto the path he now walked on. Clad in scarlet, white and gold was a young woman whose azure eyes regarded the songstress with a mixture of jealousy and contempt. She held an ornate, bloody spear in one hand, stepping over the bodies of the slain with the feline grace of a killer. As she came closer, the songstress saw that the woman's exposed legs and upper arms sported a tattoo of a serpent's coils, the silver sheen of its scales glowing like starlight. Sensuous and strong, the songstress's adversary was an individual whose charms had spelt the end of kings and countries. It was in that instant that the pink-haired songstress remembered what a fortune teller had told her years before, and what her father had revealed to her, prior to his death, about their family. Secrets and revelations that had once made little to no sense soon, or had little to do with the rest, took on new meanings.

"I see…" the songstress whispered, her azure eyes meeting her rival's, "So, you are the one…"

The songstress knew that her adversary had won the battle that would decide the outcome of the war, and that she was already in a position where a miracle was the only thing that could save her. The lovely angel of war that blocked the songstress's only avenue of egress would succeed where she had failed.

And that hurt more than the bullet that threw the songstress off her feet…and back into reality with a scream of anguish so loud that it caused her staff and her bodyguard to charge into the room, guns in hand. And for the first time since the end of the Bloody Valentine War, they realized just how much pain was hidden beneath the serene mask of the young woman who had brought peace to the Earth Sphere.

**(O)**

A faithful soldier turned in her bed, dreaming of a terrible betrayal amidst the sands of a desert where many a terrible battle had been fought amidst its canyons and towering mountains. She watched as comrades she had known for years cut down by a withering barrage of cannon fire she knew came from the barrels of a _Compton_-class land battleship. She heard their screams over the communication network, audible over the eardrum-splitting detonations that blasted new craters into the desert floor and sent smoke and sand flying a hundred meters into the air.

And she heard a voice – that of a boy whose deeds had made him legendary in the Earth Sphere's armed forces – commanding them to stand firm, to buy their retreating allies more time to flee. She watched, aghast, as a barrage of high-velocity, armor-piercing rounds cast the defiant angel from the sky, and heard a roar of triumph from the throats of their enemies. She watched as a host of Strike Daggers charge forward, determined to capture the fallen angel. That would not happen, the woman vowed, not on her watch! Gripping the control sticks of her customized Astray, she launched her MS forward to intercept her former comrades.

"I will not abandon you…" the sleeping woman whispered to the darkness.

**(O)**

On an Earth Alliance battleship bearing a complement of the elite Sabertooth commandos, a female officer sat in pensive silence in its mess hall, nursing a hot cup of tea as she watched a documentary about the Bloody Valentine War on her palm-top. Those who saw the normally playful and flirtatious snow-blonde bombshell in such an introspective mood left her alone; nobody in his or her right mind wanted to get in the bad books of the one person whose occupation gave him (or her, in this case) the right to tell God to take a hike.

The woman had, prior to her enlistment in the EA Army as a medical officer, once worked as a lecturer in Heliopolis's Institute of Technology. She had taught history there, despite her medical qualifications and experience. Almost a dozen of the ship's crew had been her students, and seeing them brought back memories of better days. And of the many students she taught, she remembered one whose reputation with the University's various faculties bordered on worship – and who was regarded by his peers, albeit playfully, as being the only defective Coordinator to walk Creation. Shy and introverted, he would not have looked out of place working in a library or telling stories to children (both of which she had seen him do).

Imagine her horror and amazement when she learnt that he had died in the closing days of the Bloody Valentine War under circumstances bordering on the incredible. It had taken the woman all of her persuasive skills to get the person who had informed her – and who had been one of her students some years back and now worked as a reporter with ESNN – to give her a full account of the events that had led a gentle boy to become one of the most feared warriors to bestride the stars since the end of the Reconstruction Wars. Soldiers who had fought in the Bloody Valentine War still spoke of the Angel who had fought under the banner of Lacus Clyne and whose blood, they say, was the ink that penned the words of the peace treaty between Earth and PLANT.

And though the former teacher knew that her student could not have possibly survived the devastating barrage that killed him, why did it feel like he was still alive? The woman ran a hand through her soft, snow-blonde locks, mirroring the affectionate manner in which her former student had done in her dream. He was more than she remembered him. Gone was the shy boy who had been the object of affection of many girls (and no few of her colleagues) in the University he had studied in. In its place was a man with the bearing of a king, and whose violet eyes were radiant with staggering power.

"_I will see you again…"_

The woman sipped her drink, if only to hide her blush from her colleagues who had entered the mess hall. The rational part of her mind told her that it was impossible for the dead to return to life. But, for once, she could not help but wish that it were possible.

**(O)**

The CO of the Sabertooth unit assigned to Operation Frostcrown (4) looked down at the digital map display, and made amendments to it. He frowned and checked the report his Intelligence Officer had given him some two hours ago. An EA patrol fleet had been destroyed in the vicinity of the ruins of Junius-7; their last transmission had been of a Genesis's Light task force consisting of two Laurasia-class frigates, two Nazca-class destroyers and four ships of an unknown configuration.

The last were eerily similar in design to the Sword-class frigates of the Martian Dominion, but were far smaller and faster. They were also lightly-armed, indicating that their main role was to serve as escorts. But no escort ship in the Earth Sphere had the capacity to carry Mobile Suits. This one could – and that made the Sabertooth commander remember an intelligence report he had read months earlier about a master engineer in the service of the terrorists of Genesis's Light. His identity was unknown, but his creations were slowly sowing the seeds of a new war.

The Sabertooth commander turned to the second segment of the report, this one regarding an MS that was clearly one of the creations of said individual. The suit was piloted by Arden Clarkson, ZAFT's Iron Wolf, who had deserted ZAFT at the end of the Bloody Valentine War. The Iron Wolf was a firm believer in Patrick Zala's ideas of Coordinator domination over the Earth Sphere and the eventual restoration of the Solar Empire, with the PLANTs as its new capital. Arden's feud with Andrew Bartfeld, ZAFT's Desert Tiger, was legendary. The feud had gotten so bad that Patrick Zala – then one of ZAFT's Ten Generals – had been forced to reassign the Iron Wolf and his troops from the North African war-zone to the Asian theatre. But his personality and beliefs notwithstanding, the Iron Wolf was a formidable tactical commander and one of the finest to ever don the uniform of a Bloodhawk Elite.

The capabilities of Arden's suit exceeded even that of the Freedom. In less than five minutes, the Iron Wolf had single-handedly demolished three of the five Strike Dagger squadrons the patrol fleet had launched before leaving the shell-shocked survivors to the mercy of his – or her – gleeful subordinates. Gundam Lucifer: that was what the bigwigs in High Command had named the suit.

The Sabertooth commander closed his eyes. He was not a man given over to fear. He had fought against ZAFT's Bloody Empress and survived the decapitate-and-cripple strategies of the Hydra when the latter took the Kaohsiung Base. He had gone into fist-fights with Coordinators, barely winning through the skin of his teeth each time (and because he knew that a single blow from a Coordinator would lead to any Natural pushing daisies prematurely!). He was a soldier's soldier. But, for the first time in a long, long time, he remembered what it was like to be afraid.

Fear took the shape of an imposing man clad in ashen armor, clutching an enormous, black-bladed, rune-sword bathed in emerald flames and standing amidst an inferno. The bodies of EA and ZAFT troops littered the ground, their bodies broken and torn by gun and blade. Two women, beautiful and deadly, materialized atop one of the burning bunkers, their hands and faces drenched in the fruits of their bloody harvest. One of them held the decapitated head, clearly female and a shade of strawberry-blonde that the Sabertooth commander found familiar. Who was it…? His train of thought was derailed when the ashen-armored King had swung his flaming blade in his direction, an unspoken challenge in that very gesture.

'_Come, child,'_ the Horseman spoke, _'Come before thy Lord and be judged.'_

The Sabertooth commander shook his head and returned his attention back to the task at hand. He had a job to do. He had no time to worry about some ashen-armored freak out of the Dark Ages. Besides, dreams were just that – dreams.

**(O)**

On a neighboring ship, a commander of another elite EA combat unit stood in the observation deck, taking comfort in the vista of the star ocean and the flask of _vodka_ that he always had on his person for those moments when his nerves came close to cracking. He had just spoken to his counterpart on the _Acheron_ some time ago, and the way the latter talked worried the former. The American officer who was commanding the Sabertooth unit on the _Acheron _was a tough bastard and had taken the worst life could throw at him (and shrugged it off).

To think that a bad dream could cut his legs from under him all at once was not comforting, especially with the mission the two of them were entrusted to complete. Replaying the conversation he had had with the _Acheron_'s commander, the Russian officer found himself remembering his childhood days, back when his parents had sent him to Bible school. He remembered the stern woman who had been his teacher, and the passages she had read from the Holy Book. The Russian officer took a swig from his flask. He had always _**hated**_ Revelations – and everything his American friend had spoken came, word for word, out of it.

**X X**

In the training room of the ship, the Russian commander's female subordinate launched a powerful kick at the punching bag that almost tore it from the chain that suspended it from the ceiling. Her brown hair was matted with sweat, the end result of almost a grueling hour of hard training. Her amber eyes saw the training instrument not for what it was, but as an individual whose face and voice was known throughout and beyond the Earth Sphere: Lacus Clyne. The Russian woman sneered; she had always despised the songstress.

Lacus Clyne had grown up safe and secure in her castle; her rose-colored beliefs practically trumpeted that fact. What did she know of the world? What did she know of suffering and pain? The songstress had not scrabbled in the gutter, nor did she have to endure beatings by a corrupt police force, nor had she had to sell her body in order to live another day.

The Russian commando spun around, snapping a kick to where the head of the songstress would be, imagining the sound of bones cracking and the lithe body of the Coordinator songstress crashing to the ground. That day would come, she knew, when her superiors would call for the death of Lacus Clyne. It was only a matter of time.

**(O)**

The massive, armored pressure doors leading to Neo-Stratos's military port parted, allowing the enormous Agamemnon-class carrier to enter. Its armored hull bore the emblem of the legendary three-headed guardian hound of the underworld, declaring to the Earth Sphere the ship's allegiance and the purpose for which they were created. The controllers in the port were surprised; the _Charon_ was not due to arrive for the next forty-eight hours. Updating their superiors, they proceeded to allocate an empty dock for the ship.

The _Charon_ turned ponderously and moved slowly into its allocated hangar, allowing the dock's powerful magnetic-hydraulic clamps to secure it before powering down its engines. Minutes later, its crew poured out of its disembarkation hatch, glad to enjoy what may be their last chance at shore leave for the next six months. Only a skeleton crew of a dozen would remain on board the ship, and these had been given instructions to prepare accommodations for the strike teams that would be joining them in the forthcoming mission.

Among those teams was one particular group that the crew of the _Charon_ had prayed they would never have the misfortune of working with again: the Banshee Tactical Assault team. Aptly named, the Banshees were renowned for their infiltrate-and-exterminate tactics that had left no few terrorist leaders in fear of their lives. Whether by blade or gun, the Banshees brought the iron fist of justice crashing down upon those whose actions had earned them a place on Cerberus's Red List. The Banshee Tactical Assault team was small, numbering seven in all. Of these, only one was male, and this served as the team's Tactical Operations and Intelligence Officer. The unit's commander was a beautiful and stern woman whose iron will was matched only by her skills in combat – skills matched only by her two younger sisters.

When the _Charon_'s commanding officer and his staff met with the commanders of the strike teams and their members some three hours later, they found that only the Banshees' Tactical Officer and three members of his team were present at the gathering. The man proceeded to explain that his commanding officer and her two sisters had emerged from their quarters some two hours ago, had breakfast, and left for the Cerberus training grounds.

And, the Tactical Officer had added, for some strange reason, all three sisters were very, _**very**_ upset.

**(O)**

A young man sat alone on the wooden floor of his family's dojo, nursing a hot cup of tea, his grey eyes taking in the altar dedicated to the Chinese God of War, Guan Yu, and the poem that hung on the archway above it. It was, his father had told her, written to his stepmother's mother when the latter married her rival, a Japanese martial arts master and fellow police officer, over forty years ago. Yellow with age, the deftness of the brushstrokes and the emotion it contained endured long after both giver and receiver had passed on. Always, before practice and during meditation, he would read the verses; each time, no matter his frame of mind, it caused his heart to ache. It made him feel envy and joy in the same breath.

It made him believe.

He turned to look outside. It was still dark outside; the colony's chrono-systems had yet to enter its daylight cycle. A creak caused him to turn, his body tensing. His eyes widened; the _shoji_ door leading into the dojo was open! And he had closed it earlier to ensure his privacy. Almost immediately, a gentle hand stroked his neck, as a feminine voice whispered softly in his ear: "Got you, brother."

The young man cursed inwardly, and turned to see the mischievous, kind eyes of his younger stepsister. White hair to his brown, her red eyes to his grey, she was a spitting image of her mother; in time, she would not only be breaking his limbs – she would be breaking the hearts (and the bank accounts) of every young man on the colony.

"What are you doing here…?"

"That's my line, brother. I was hoping to get you to help me make breakfast, but you were nowhere to be found…" the girl replied.

"Which led you to assume I would be here…" the young man sighed.

"Communing with Guan Yu and the entire Celestial Bureaucracy, as it is…" the girl grinned, before her expression took on a more somber cast, "What's wrong? You're rarely this worked up. Is it about…"

"Yes," the young man's expression hardened, "it is…"

No point hiding it from his younger stepsibling – or his stepbrothers, for that matter – as they would find out sooner or later. The girl looked at the small framed picture that rested on the floor next to her stepbrother. It was of her stepfather, her stepbrother as a child…and a woman whose face was well-known among the elite and the underworld. The young woman sighed, and reached for her brother's hand. Some scars, she knew, would take a long time to heal – especially when they were made by those one loved. Her older stepbrother trembled at the contact, but forced a smile onto his face, "I'll be all right."

The girl sensed the presence of her brothers, and looked over her shoulder at the entrance. There they stood, in the shadows. They nodded and slipped away soundlessly.

"Not yet, you're not…" the girl spoke, wrapping her strong arms around her stepbrother, "But in time, you will be…"

**(O)**

The pink-haired young woman pulled her fur-lined robe over her body as she stepped out into the corridor, and walked – or rather, floated – towards the observation deck. It did not take her long to get to her destination. The observation deck was massive, sporting not only a restaurant, but six bars as well, to cater to those who wished to unburden their minds and their growling stomachs. More than half the deck had been turned into a garden, its ecology carefully regulated and contained to ensure that it did not cause an infestation in other parts of the star-fort. Fireflies flitted about, illuminating the entire area, giving the place an otherworldly quality that soothed the heart and mind of those that rested here. At the heart of the observation deck, within a small garden, was a majestic fountain dedicated to a hero of the Order whose name was lost to history.

The cold air that blew across the area mimicked that of the wind on Earth's more temperate regions, smelling of ice and snow. It caused the fabric of the young woman's robe to caress her skin with a tenderness that was a far cry from the fabrics se was used to wearing for more than half her life. Standing where she was now, in this man-made nocturnal paradise that floated under the light of the star ocean, it was hard for the young woman to believe that less than three years ago, she was fighting in the Heavy Gear gladiatorial arenas of Hellas and in the ranks of the Black Company Mercenary Group.

Those had been long, difficult years. She gripped her upper arm, lowering her head so that her soft, pink locks covered her face. And her startling likeness to a well-loved songstress of the Earth Sphere had made it more so, especially when one took into consideration how many men and women wanted to have her (or a likeness of said songstress) writhing beneath them.

'_This galaxy is cold and hard,'_ the girl had read in a book once before, _'The powerless will find no succor and the despairing and fearful shall find only cruelty to be the only comfort they shall receive.'_

But she had prevailed, and her strength of will had seen to it that she managed to come as far as she had. It had been at the Crucible Games, a deadly contest held once every seven years where the winner would either be given a place amongst the Royal Guard or enough money to set him or her up for life, that the young woman saw a chance to break the chains that bound her. It had not been easy to convince her former employers to send in a team to participate, but the lure of the enormous bounty and the possible patronage of one of the wealthy ruling lords had been too much for them to resist.

But the cost of victory had been high. Of the ten the Black Company Mercenaries had fielded in the Games, only she survived – only to find that she had traded one master for another. Albeit one, the young woman reflected, that was kinder. Running a hand through her soft, pink locks, she turned her attention on the statues of the Six Heralds, who stood in a circle surrounding the fountain, their weapons raised in salute. Her gaze fell upon the representation of the Ashen Herald. Few outside of his army had ever seen the Pale Rider; fewer still had fought him and lived to tell the tale.

She remembered how the Herald had materialized before her, stunning the thousands-strong crowd and the millions that had been watching the Games from their homes and watering holes into silence. Never had the most secretive of the Six Heralds made an appearance as ostentatious as he had that day. But it did not matter to the young woman. To her, the Herald was another obstacle between her and the chance to live life on her own terms. Hindsight being 20/20, she knew that her decision to pick a fight with one of the mightiest warriors in Creation next to the Archangel Michael was a bad, _**BAD**_ idea. The Ashen Herald had simply nodded – whether in approval or in assent to her challenge, she would never know – before proceeding to send her to hospital. The last thing she saw before the world turned dark had been the Herald's crimson eyes boring into hers, judging her, as he held her broken body in a grip that would have fused coal into diamond.

When she awoke several days later, the Banner of Victory hung before her…as well as a suit of armor and robes of a Knightly Order initiate. The nurse who had been given the responsibility of taking care of her had given her an envelope, the wax seal bearing the sigil of the Ashen Herald himself. In it were her discharge papers, signed by the commander of the Black Company mercenaries, as well as instructions from the Ashen Herald to contact one of his lieutenants should she accept his offer to join his army. It had not taken the young woman long to realize that the Ashen Herald had effectively cornered her; the latter's appearance in the Crucible Games to challenge her – and the five intense minutes in which she had fought him – had ensured that, should she decline the Herald's offer, there would be a long line of people who would make the same. She had been furious at the Herald's duplicity at first, but soon came to see the advantages of accepting the Ashen Herald's offer.

It not only meant leaving the life of a mercenary behind, of having to fight and bleed for nobles who viewed people like her as society's dregs fit only to be used and discarded; it also meant that she had a chance to meet that brown-haired, amethyst-eyed young man she had seen in her dreams…and walk with him to the promised land.

**(O)**

_**Earth, Equatorial Union State of Thailand, Roanapur**_

The city of Roanapur in Thailand was a haven for criminals of every stripe and nationality. It was a violent, lawless place where life was cheap and death easy to come by. It was a modern-day Gomorrah, a brutal paradise whose laws were made and reinforced by the cartels that rule it. It was here that a small delegation sent by Arnold Walsh, leader of the Iron Throne Junkers, would meet their contact. They took the fastest route to reach one of the few places regarded by all in the city as neutral ground – the Golden Flag. Originally a command center used by the Equatorial Union Army before they withdrew from area, the building was restored and converted to a bar and brothel by an ex-mercenary who settled in the city over a decade ago.

Jumping off the pick-up that they had rented from Bangkok (6), the Iron Throne Junkers made their way into the Golden Flag. The leader of the group was a young woman clad in a white bustier, low-cut trousers and military boots. Her thick mane of golden hair was tied into two ponytails, and both swayed like the twin tails of an alien predator with every step the young woman took. The bar's patrons ran their eyes over the girl's lush curves, and the way her clothes accentuated them. The lucky man who managed to get into her panties would most assuredly find himself unable move for the next three days. That was provided that the girl did not choose to remove parts of said man's anatomy with the two gun-blades that hung from her belt.

The sight of the weapons caused several of the Golden Flag's customers to entertain thoughts of robbing the girl in addition to fucking her senseless. Gun-blades were Dominion-era weapons, and the ones the girl carried were those used by the Empire's Tactical Assault squads. Selling the weapons to a collector or on the black market would put a considerable amount in the robber's wallet. More, considering that these were in good working order.

One of the Golden Flag's waitresses approached the group as they sat down, her voice sultry as she ran a hand over one of the young woman's escorts, "What will it be, boys?"

"Four Imperial Hammers," the young woman replied, "And go tell Byron that the Iron Throne has arrived."

The scantily-clad waitress stared at the young woman and her companions, before looking at her employer and nodding. The Golden Flag's owner picked up the phone, hit a number, and spoke into it briefly before returning the receiver to its cradle. It did not take the Iron Throne's client long to appear. 'Byron' was not alone; he had come with three others. The first was a red-haired Japanese woman wearing a low-cut bustier, mini-skirt and high boots; the second was a massive, seven-foot Iranian clad in a Hawaiian shirt, trousers and leather shoes. The third was a swarthy Egyptian clad in the traditional clothes of his homeland. All three were armed with pistols. Only 'Byron' was unarmed, but the manner in which he carried himself was a warning to anyone trying to kill him that they had best succeed on the first attempt – because they would never get a second.

Byron took the seat the young woman and her compatriots had purposely left unoccupied. The red-haired man's friends took a nearby table and ordered drinks from one of the passing waitresses.

"You took your time getting here," Byron said as he sat down, "You were supposed to be here **YESTERDAY**."

"It could not be helped," the young woman replied, raising both her gloved hands in apology, "We had some difficulty getting what you asked for past Singapore customs. It took us a lot of convincing – and a LOT of money – before we could get the idiots there to let us through."

"Do you have the things I asked for, Ayumi?"

The young woman nodded and turned to one of her colleagues, "Ralph, go and get the man his instruments. Leon, Zack," she turned to the other two men, "accompany him. Make sure the maggots here don't run off with the merchandise."

The men she addressed left the table immediately.

Ayumi waited until her compatriots were out of earshot before she turned her attention back to Byron, her sapphire eyes an icy inferno, "Now that we're alone, Byron, I have some questions I want answered. And I don't care if I have to break every rule in the Iron Throne's book – or every bone in your body – to get them."

Byron met the young woman's angry gaze, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Ayumi."

"Yes, you do," the golden-haired Junker snarled, pulling out one of her gun-blades and putting it on the table, "And that is the reason why you and I are having this conversation. If you didn't know anything, I would find someone who did – and I would not give him the courtesy I'm giving you. You and your friends," Ayumi glanced towards Byron's companions, who watched her warily, "owe me from the last time. I'm cashing it in. I want answers, Byron. And I want them now."

Byron did not speak for a full minute, "Very well. But remember, you did **NOT** hear any of this from me. Are we clear?"

Ayumi nodded.

"But before you begin, I will have to tell you that my employers have another job for the Iron Throne. And if the questions you are about to ask involve the job you and yours had to do three months ago, I will strongly suggest that you leave the Iron Throne."

The golden-haired Junker's eyes narrowed, "Are you saying….?"

Byron's face was hard, "Ayumi, you already know the real face of the world. It is cruel, and is full of people who are more than willing to sell its heroes and champions to the Devil if it gets them what they want. As long as they gain, what do they care what happens to the world?" and the man's expression softened, "Or rather, I should be asking when was it did you start to care, Kisaragi Ayumi."

_**To be continued…**_

_**Author's Afterword:**_

By the Emperor, this chapter was easily the hardest one I have ever had to write in all the years I've been in the business. But, you're not interested in my complaints, are you? You want results – and that is what I live to give. Just so you know…this chapter is half of Kouryuo's original chapter. I split it up, so as to ensure that I do not spoil flavour of this chapter.

Next chapter, we get to see Murrue, Fllay and what the terrorist factions have been up to. Also, in this (and most likely, the next) chapter, we have OCs being introduced – and these will play a crucial role in later chapters. And yes, Ayumi and the Iron Throne have an important part to play in screwing up the Earth Sphere.

Finally, tell me how I did. Is it up to standard? Sure as hell hope it is, considering it took me eight months and two drafts (the first was 18 pages and took three months-plus; the second 26 and five-months plus) to finish this one to my satisfaction.

_**ALSO,**_ I apologise if this chapter is somewhat confusing, especially in regards to Natarle's segment. I had to switch between reality and dreamscape, as Kouryuo's original draft was that of a full-dream sequence before Natarle returned to reality with a scream. It took me a full 18-page first draft and weeks of restructuring before I could present to you this second (and I hope, better) draft. Also, it gave me the opportunity to flesh out the background of Natarle's family.

_**LASTLY**_, my annotations are in a mess – and for this, I apologize. This is the third draft of the whole thing, and I…had a SNAFU.

_**Annotations:**_

1) Okay, for myself – the relationship between Natarle and her family is acrimonious, to say the least, except with her grandfather and her uncle, Alexander Badgiruel, who commands the 12th and 41st Earth Alliance flotillas. Also, Natarle's first love was Asuran Ibrahim, who had been her schoolmate, and who was like Mwu la Flaga in many ways.

2) The Earth Alliance is formed of two power-blocs. These are the Atlantic Federation and the Eurasian Alliance – both sides have a military formed under a unified command structure, and Federation politicians usually have interests across the Atlantic and vice-versa. When the Earth Defence League became the Earth Alliance, many of the neutral countries such as the Equatorial Union and Orb chose to secede.

3) Okay, for myself – Orb has fusion reactors (which are WAY better than nuclear reactors – considering you don't level New York when they blow) and orbital defence guns (the type of which I would need to select and do research on later). With the EA having both, their military capabilities are better than before.

4) The name of the Earth-Sphere anti-terrorist operation is Operation Frostcrown. I should have mentioned this in the earlier chapter. Sorry.

5) A reference to the last part of Chapter 6.

6) Sorry, too much Black Lagoon – and it suited my tastes to set a scene in Roanapur. I don't know if it is near Bangkok, but I will assume that it is.


	9. Chapter 8

_**Gundam SeeD Destiny – Lion of Heaven**_

_**Original Idea, drafts and concepts by Kouryuo Sabre**_

_**Re-written by Spiritblade**_

_**Disclaimer: **_I think we can skip this. We know who Gundam SeeD and GSD series belong to, and who the original writer of this story is – and it will be most discourteous if I should ever forget. Special thanks to Kouryuo Sabre for allowing me to write this story. And, dear readers, I have a favour to ask of you. Please do leave a review or two for both me and Kouryuo Sabre (visit his profile page – it has some excellent works). It will ensure that we don't fall asleep on duty.

**Also, please take note that this chapter is the second half of chapter 7**. I split Kouryuo Sabre's _**original chapter 7 into two parts**_, so that the flavour and feeling will not be diluted and you, the reader, will not be left with a 'WTF! THAT killed the mood' feeling.

**AND**, just in case it wasn't obvious, the final part of the previous chapter was an intro to the OCs that will make their appearance somewhere in the story.

Now, on with the story…

**(O)**

_The last thing Freya had expected was the Dragoon of her Mistress's lover greeting her with a fierce pulsar lance volley. Had it not been for her highly-advanced, long-range sensor systems, the russet-haired Dragoon would have been pulverised instantly. Freya's Valkyrie retinue immediately scattered as another barrage of pulsar lance fire was unleashed from the Goddess that stood guard over the ruins of what was once the most prosperous planet in the Dominion next to Holy Terra itself._

_One of Freya's Valkyries paused to return fire, only to find that Freya's emerald-haired counterpart had locked onto her and was unleashing a barrage of railgun fire from her autonomous defence systems. The ferocity of the barrage stripped the Valkyrie's void shields in an instant, forcing the lesser Dragoon to terminate her attack or risk destruction._

"_Initiate maneovers Asuryan-delta-Zero-Alpha-Vermillion," Freya informed her Valkyries, "Do not let her get a bead on you. The Spear of Khaine is capable of destroying you in one shot. Seline, stand down and initiate shield regeneration procedures. You were lucky that my sister's aim was thrown off by the planet's gravitational field; she will not miss a second time."_

"_Request permission to return fire, Lady Freya," Carline, another Valkyrie, spoke as she readied her long-range Star Gun._

"_Denied," Freya replied, dodging another shot, "I will deal with my sister. The rest of you try to not get yourselves destroyed…"_ _and began executing her War Goddess combat protocols, "Code _Valhalla _confirmed. Materialize."_

**(O)**

_Morrigan's lips curved in a predatory grin as she saw Freya cover the distance between them in an instant, their pulsar lances colliding with enough force to split an Imperial battleship in two. The Spear of Khaine was forged for the Dragoon of the Fiery Lord in repayment for his saving Freya's Mistress, and was named after the ancient, terrible weapon of the wingly race's deified hero of legend. It surpassed Freya's Gungnir in every way but one: it was not made for close-combat._

_With a single almighty heave, Freya threw her emerald-haired sister into – and through – the ruins of one of Rigel III's orbital defence satellites. When the latter emerged a second later, she was holding a smaller pulsar lance similar to that of Freya's Valkyrie retinue. _

"_Freya," Morrigan growled, "Are you here at the behest of those who wish my Master slain?"_

"_I will not deny that there are many among my Mistress's retainers who wish him dead, and that there are just as many who believe him responsible for her disappearance…"_

"_That is a baseless accusation, Freya. My Master loved your Mistress."_

"_Which is why I wished he – and you – had stayed on Suldanesselar. Had he done so, then maybe my Mistress would have been able to cut out the cancer that has taken root within Lordaeron."_

"_What are you talking about…?" Morrigan readied her pulsar lance._

"_Put down your weapon, Morrigan. I am here at the final behest of my Mistress. And she commanded that I – and my retinue – protect your Master till his last breath. This war is not over. And if my Mistress is right, it has only just begun."_

"_We are in no position to challenge the High Lords."_

_Freya smiled, but there was no warmth in it, "As things stand, no; but the remnants of the Sword and Shield Legions have managed to break through the Order blockade of the Solar System. If we are to have any chance of attaining victory in the Long War my Mistress spoke of, we must rally them. But first…"_

T_he russet-haired War Goddess opened up her communication channels to the ship that laid waiting in hyperspace._

"_We need a ship..."_

**Chapter 8**

**Murrue Ramius**

**Dreams and Memories – 4**

**The Ghost Army **

**The Iron Wolf**

_**SENTINEL HQ, Bastion Island, Orb Union**_

_**December 21**__**st**__** Cosmic Era 73**_

It has been said that the eyes were the windows to the soul. If so, then history was the window to the soul of an era – and of the people whose actions have defined it. It was a romantic, yet apt, phrase that Murrue Ramius, Commander of the SENTINELs, had once heard spoken by her mentor, the late Admiral Halberton of the Earth Alliance, and was later echoed by Lacus Clyne during the Memorial Ceremony held last year to commemorate the end of the Bloody Valentine War. Those words, spoken long ago by a historian who had borne witness to the end of one of the bloodiest wars in the history of the human race, were a tribute to the strength and heroism of the men and women who had defended humanity against a mighty enemy who had left much of the world in ruins and hurled it back into a new Dark Age that had lasted for five hundred years.

And like that historian, Murrue had borne witness to the end of one such war…and the seeds of another being sown. The SENTINEL Commander looked at the folders on her desk. There were twelve of them in all, most of them reports regarding the outcomes of various counter-terrorism and information-gathering operations. Those Murrue could read later; it was the reports that she had received from Orb's Military Intelligence and her field agents that needed her immediate attention.

Genesis's Light was clearly up to something. And whatever it was, it had forced the governments of the Earth Sphere with no choice but to take action. Operations Frostcrown was the first joint operation to be undertaken by the governments of the Earth Sphere since the end of the Bloody Valentine War and a good many Heads of State were determined to see to it that it ended well. The task force consisted of eight ships and thirty-five Mobile Suits of various types piloted by some of the finest pilots in the Earth Sphere. And in that force were 10 experimental Animus-class Gundams, armed with weapons and technology that surpassed those of Freedom and Justice. Murrue had heard outrageous rumours regarding the Animus-class Gundams, but a demonstration held recently by the Orb military's R&D department had proved that those rumours were fact. Freedom was capable of demolishing an entire battle-group in less than five minutes; an Animus-class Gundam could do it in three.

It caused Murrue to remember what a ZAFT Bloodhawk Commander had told her during the Memorial Ceremony celebrating the first anniversary of the Bloody Valentine War's end. Peace, he had said, was a fleeting thing – beautiful and fragile. It was a flower watered in the blood and tears of heroes and sown in a soil that was the ruin of the dreams and ambitions of tyrants. Its existence, however, was offensive to the vengeful and those who found war to be profitable. As such, power was necessary to maintain the status quo.

"_Power, Commander Ramius, is but a tool. As such, it is a thing neither good nor evil. It can be used to bring about war – or bring it to an end."_

Murrue stood up and looked out onto the vast expanse of Bastion, headquarters of the SENTINELs peacekeepers. Billions of dollars had been poured into Bastion's construction, the training and the arming of its troops. Here, before her, was her decision made manifest. When the Bloody Valentine War ended, Murrue had considered leaving the armed forces altogether. Many of the choices she had made during the conflict – and the lessons she had learnt in the midst of its flames – had been hard and painful ones. The last thing she wanted was to make decisions that would send young men and women to their deaths. It had been Lacus who had convinced Murrue to remain in military service – albeit under an organization who would be dedicated to maintaining peace.

This new army needed a leader, the songstress had told her, and she could find no person more suited to lead it than the _Archangel_'s former commander. Murrue had protested, saying that the best person for the job would be the Desert Tiger, as his tactical, combat and strategic skills surpassed her own. Lacus had countered Murrue by pointing out that she wanted someone who had no ties with any of the Earth Sphere's factions to take command of an army whose sole reason for existence was to prevent a second Bloody Valentine War from erupting. There was also another reason why the Desert Tiger had refused to assume command of the SENTINELs: he was to take command of the private army that Lacus was building up in secret.

The songstress had been evasive when Murrue asked her the reasons for her doing so, but it was only several months ago that those reasons became clear. The War they fought to end two years ago had _**yet**_ to end. The men and women whose actions and affiliations had led to one of the most devastating wars being fought in over half-a-century were engineering another.

The Desert Tiger had named several organizations and individuals he wanted Murrue to keep an eye on. The first was LOGOS, an extremely powerful and wealthy weapons manufacturing conglomerate with connections to almost every country in the Earth Sphere. The second was Djibril Krauser, an influential EA politician with links to the Blue Cosmos – and LOGOS – and whom Andrew believed to be the leader of the anti-Coordinator group. The third was a Junker Guild called the Iron Throne, whom the Desert Tiger believed is acting as a courier for the terrorist groups in the Earth Sphere, and whose political connections and the Junker Charter made it difficult for any government-affiliated body to persecute. Last but not least, Andrew had warned Murrue to be wary of the current Chairman of PLANT whom Lacus had nominated to take the place of the late Patrick Zala. It had confused Murrue as to why; Gilbert Dullindal had proven himself to be one of the best heads of state the Earth Sphere had seen in a long time. His dealings with his country's former adversaries had been fair and non-confrontational. If a war broke out, Murrue doubted that it would be Dullindal who would be the one firing the opening salvo.

Murrue closed her eyes, the memories of the Bloody Valentine War arising from their shallow grave and regarding her with haunted, empty eyes that have seen death and tragedy to the extent that no words and oceans of tears could describe. And that ghost had amethyst eyes, reaching out to her with bloodied hands…

**X X **

_**Two years ago, C.E. 71, the closing days of the Bloody Valentine War**_

The force of the explosion that destroyed the GENESIS gun was felt by every ship and Mobile Suit within a two hundred-kilometre radius, and annihilated anything closer in a storm of fire. Closest to the blast were three battered ships, one commanded by an ex-officer of the Earth Alliance, another by the princess of a country devastated by war and the last by a princess regarded by those who had taken an already-insane war to new heights as a traitor. But they, and the crews of their respective ships, prayed that the young pilot of Freedom had managed to escape the inferno.

Hails from nearby ships were ignored as the bridge crew as the sensor operators swept the region where the Freedom had last been seen fighting the Providence, the steed of an insane, vengeful soul who sought to purge the Earth Sphere clean of life. Communication officers sent out repeated hails, despite their knowing that the electro-magnetic interference caused by the destruction of GENESIS made all but short-range communications impossible.

But, regardless, their efforts soon paid off as a familiar voice caused cheers to erupt in the bridges of all three ships. The voice of a young man, though grainy with static, emerged from its speakers: "Cap…Ramius….Th..s…ira. _Archangel_…_Eternal…_plea…pond…Is anyo…there?"

"Connection established!" Miriallia shouted, "Sai, help me here! Focus the frequency capture on the area he's at!"

"I'm on it…! Hold on…" Sai hit several keys on his terminal, "Aligning sensors, boosting power…all right. I'm bringing him on-screen now!"

An instant later, the face of Kira Yamato, pilot of the Freedom, appeared on-screen, weary and bloodied. The sight caused Murrue to flinch. The commander of the _Archangel _saw that what was floating in the confines of the Freedom's cockpit was not only shattered machinery, but blood as well.

"Captain Ramius…is everyone on the _Archangel_ all right?"

"For most parts, yes," Murrue replied, glancing at her console. The _Archangel_ had been badly mauled; the brown-haired commander could count on the fingers of her hands the areas of her ship that had been spared the devastation visited upon it. A quick sensor scan of the incoming _Eternal_ and _Kusanagi_ told that they too had not left the battle unscathed.

"What about Athrun and Cagalli…?"

"We just got word some five minutes ago. They're okay."

Kira sighed in relief, an act that caused his wounds to lash him with whips of fire. He clenched his teeth, fighting back the pain that threatened to send him spiralling into unconsciousness. The fight with Providence had all but drained the young Coordinator of his strength.

"Kira, land the Freedom. You need medical attention…" Murrue said, "I'll bring the _Archangel_ in."

"Captain," Miriallia cut into the conversation, "there is a message being broadcasted on the universal frequency. Point of origin is Janurarius…" and the girl's eyes widened, "I think you'd better listen to this…"

Miriallia proceeded to open the channel and link it to the _Archangel_'s ship-wide intercom system: _"I repeat: This is Eileen Carnaver of the Provisional Council of PLANT. I order all ZAFT and EA divisions to stand down immediately. The War is over. As of this moment, a ceasefire between the Earth Alliance and the PLANTs is in effect. Put down your arms, all of you! Enough blood has been spilt."_

A few seconds later, a familiar voice, one recognized by Murrue as belonging to Alexander Badgiruel, Natarle's uncle, and commander of the 12th and 41st EA flotillas, emerged from the speakers, _"This is Admiral Alexander Badgiruel of the EA Capital Defence Flotilla. By the order of President Copeland, all EA divisions in this sector of space are to stand down immediately. A ceasefire with the PLANTs is now in effect. I repeat: a ceasefire with the PLANTs is now in effect."_

Murrue's lips went dry. A ceasefire…? The war was over? They succeeded….? The commander of the _Archangel_ turned to look at her bridge crew, unable to believe what she was hearing. The looks of disbelief on their faces gave way to joy as the transmission repeated itself. The war was indeed over, a fact rammed home by the barrage of signal flares launched by the ZAFT and EA fleets ordering their forces to withdraw from the battleground. Communication screens opened up on either side of Murrue's console, revealing the faces of Cagalli's second-in-command, Major Kisaka of the Orb Army, and those of Lacus and the Desert Tiger, Andrew Bartfeld's. The expressions on the faces of the last two were worried.

"Murrue," Lacus spoke, "Has Kira…?"

"He's all right, Lacus. He's badly wounded, but he's all right. The _Archangel_ is vectoring in to pick him up," Murrue replied, and turned her gaze back to the mesmerizing sight of the hundreds of flares that illuminating a hellish battlefield littered with the wreckage of starships and MS, "Have we actually…?"

"Yes, Commander," Lacus's lips curved in a smile, "We have."

Murrue leaned back into her chair, allowing the elation of having survived the greatest war to befall the Earth Sphere since the end of the Earth-Mars War to flow through her. Her eyes snapped open when she felt a hand land on her shoulder, and she turned to see Mwu la Flaga, one arm in a sling and his body bandaged beneath his jacket, behind her. The grin on his face made Murrue smile, and his comment about not coming back in style made the commander of the _Archangel_ roll her eyes in exasperation.

"Coming back alive was all I would ever ask of Kira and you, victorious or not. So stop whining," Murrue scowled playfully.

"How is the kid?"

Murrue's face became serious, "Bad. We're moving in to pick him up now…" and she opened a channel to the sick bay, "Sick bay? Doctor Martina, are you there?"

A blonde-haired officer wearing the uniform of the EA Medical Corps appeared, "Yes, captain…?"

"I need you to send a team to the hangar bay. Kira-kun is wounded and needs…" Murrue said, but was immediately cut off when the _Archangel_'s warning klaxons sounded, an indication that an unknown enemy had locked its weapons onto them. She and Mwu quickly whirled towards Sai, who manned the sensor console.

"I am getting an energy build up a hundred kilometres behind us!" the bespectacled ex-university student shouted, and his eyes widened as a sub-screen opened up, revealing the identity of the unknown assailant, "It's the _Dominion_! She snuck us behind us using the debris as cover! Her main guns have locked onto us!"

Murrue felt the blood drain from her face, "What?! Where is she?"

"Portside!" and Sai opened up a sub-screen revealing the black-and-white ship that had once been the flagship of the EA armada. Its guns were aimed directly at the _Archangel. _Murrue was about to order Chandra to get the ship out of harm's way, but one look at the tactical sensor array told her that such an order would lead to the _Eternal_ taking the full brunt of the _Dominion_'s wrath.

"Guns are powering up! She's getting ready to fire!" Sai shouted.

"Damn it…!" Murrue ordered, "Warn the _Eternal_! Weapons Officer, give me firing solution! Buy us time!"

"Main guns are offline!" Romero, the _Archangel_'s Weapons Officer, shouted back, "Valiant rail-cannons and missile launchers have locked on! Firing now…!"

The _Archangel_ turned about, turning its ravaged prow to face its twin, its guns blazing ferociously, desperate to buy the retreating _Eternal_ time to get out of the way. Shells fired at ten times the speed of sound smashed against the _Dominion_, but its laminated armour all but turned aside the blows. Its anti-missile defence system, superior to that of the _Archangel_'s, defeated the barrage of missiles that its white-and-crimson twin had sent its way with contemptuous ease.

"Murrue…!" Lacus's voice screamed over the communications channel, "Get out of the way!"

"Too late…!" Murrue gritted her teeth, as the _Dominion_ fired her lances. The terror that gripped the hearts of the _Archangel_'s commander and her crew was palpable. Arnold Neumann, the _Archangel_'s pilot, attempted to get the ship out of harm's way, knowing all too well that it would take a miracle to save them. And a miracle did come, but it was one that would bring pain and grief to all those who would bear witness to its arrival.

Before the lances of the _Dominion_ could cut the _Archangel_ in two, a badly-damaged Freedom took the blow that would have otherwise turned the white-and-crimson ship into a burning wreck. The sheer force of the explosion as the _Dominion_'s lances detonated against the badly-damaged MS could be felt by those aboard the _Archangel, _throwing those who were on the bridge almost face-first into their consoles and those who were not secured crashing into bulkheads. It did not take long for Murrue and her crew to realize what had transpired. Fear of dying was soon replaced by fear for the person who was now staring Death in the eye. All aboard the _Archangel_ and her sister ships knew that it was only a matter of time before the Pale Rider's invincible might ended the defiance of the mortal who dared to rob him of his prize. The guns of the _Dominion_ were meant to sink capital ships and star-forts; even a Freedom which had managed to emerge unscathed from its duel with the Providence would barely have been able to turn aside the blow.

Murrue quickly opened a communications channel to the Freedom, "Kira! Get out of there!"

The bloodied, scarred face of Kira Yamato, illuminated by the incandescent light, regarded her with an expression that would haunt her for months to come. The resolve in his eyes was staggering. It was clear to the commander of the _Archangel_ that the only way the young Coordinator would obey was if he prevailed, or was cut down. She knew the outcome. Even so, she begged the young man to stand aside. He shook his head. His last words, hoarse with pain, would scar her – and no doubt, Lacus and Fllay as well – for the rest of her life.

"_I'm sorry."_

And with a great flash, akin to that of a dying star, the Freedom exploded. When the light finally cleared seconds later, all that was left of one of the most powerful war machines in the Earth Sphere was charred wreckage floating in the cold emptiness of space, a grave marker to an individual whose actions were instrumental in bringing an insane war to an end. A scream suddenly erupted from the speakers, a sound which broke the paralysis of the _Archangel_'s crew and caused the embittered souls still locked in combat to freeze. Murrue shot up from her chair, her marigold eyes ablaze, the sound of Lacus's scream and Kira's last words echoing in her ears and sealing the fate of the madman who had taken control of the _Dominion _when its crew and captain abandoned it.

The next words out of Murrue's lips were thick with hate and rage, "All ships, heed my command. Bring all arms to bear and sink the _Dominion_!"

**X X X**

_**The present, SENTINEL HQ, Bastion Island**_

Murrue's eyes snapped open as the memories of the closing days of the Bloody Valentine War receded. The anguish and grief that she felt then was now a dull ache; she remembered more often the times she had spent with the young Coordinator, and the way he would turn red when she teased him and the way Natarle's violet eyes would soften with mischievous mirth. Mwu would throw fuel into the fire with his less-than-subtle sexual innuendoes that had left Murrue choking on her drink more than once, and Natarle looking for something to hit the blonde pilot with.

The Supreme Commander of the SENTINELs stood up and turned about. She caught sight of a group of men and women leaving one of the larger MS hangars. Of these, more than half wore the grey-and-blue flight suits of the SENTINELs' Air and Space Force branch. The remainder were clad in the royal-purple and silver of the Lioness of Orb's personal guard – the Sardaukar. Athrun had created the thousand-strong royal guard, and equipped it with the best the Orb military had to offer. It was considered a great honour, especially among some of Orb's families who adhered to the ancient, martial traditions of the Imperial Dominion, to have a son or daughter within the ranks of the Lioness's royal guard. Mwu had commented that Athrun's decision to name his wife's personal guard after the bodyguard of a mythic general from a distant era apt. The Sardaukar were Orb's finest warriors. The Naturals among the Sardaukar (1) were easily the equal of an EA Sabertooth or Einherjar commando and their Coordinators brethren to that of ZAFT's Bloodhawk Elites.

The Sardaukar that had come to Bastion to help train the newly-recruited SENTINEL soldiers and pilots were led by three girls, all of whom Murrue knew by name and who had long ago earned the right to carry the beautifully-crafted swords that every Sardaukar was presented upon his or her elevation. The three girls had fought in the Siege of Orb and had taken part in the battles leading up to the titanic clash between the Earth Alliance and the PLANTs, barely surviving the last out of sheer luck. Though older and a good deal wiser, the personalities of Asagi Caldwell, Mayura Labatt and Juri Wu Nien had not changed the least. Cheerful and outgoing, they were the mascots of the very unit they now commanded – the 1st Orb Cataphracts.

Murrue smiled, remembering how Asagi and her friends had teased Kira mercilessly the first time they met. Believing him to be Cagalli's boyfriend, the three girls had warned Kira that Cagalli could be a handful – both in **AND** out of the bedroom. Mayura had been the worst of the lot. The auburn-haired girl's perverted sense of humour was easily the equal to that of Murrue's husband. Mayura had made it no secret that she wanted Kira for herself, and had gone as far as to ask Cagalli if she would be willing to share him. The scandalized princess had not hesitated to show her friend the extent of her displeasure. Jackie Tonomura, the CIC officer of the _Archangel_, had snapped a shot of Mayura cleaning an entire aircraft runway – alone – with a fuming Cagalli watching her. The picture, along with many others he had taken, decorated the entire wall across the room. Some of them were of herself or her husband with important dignitaries or celebrities. Three were of Cagalli's wedding to Athrun and half a dozen were of hers to Mwu la Flaga. But, holding a place of honour above the sabre Murrue had received after her graduation from the EA Officers' Academy was a picture of the _Archangel_'s crew and that of Kira and his classmates from the days before the attack that would change their lives forever.

Murrue's eyes were drawn to the beautiful woman that stood next to Kira. The latter wore a blue sweater and a knee-length black skirt over a white lab-coat. Long, silver-blonde hair framed an elegant face that bespoke of sophistication and intellect, and a smile the bespoke of playful affection for the embarrassed young man next to her. Her name, Miriallia told her, was Maria Andersen. She had taught history in the college (2) Miriallia and her friends had studied in. And she was, the honey-haired girl added with a smile, the only person in the entire school to get Kira to have dinner with her.

Knowing Kira as she did, Murrue had asked Miriallia how the professor had managed to convince the shy Coordinator to accede to her request. The answer quite frankly shocked Murrue. Tolle had sold Kira out in order to save his own skin. The former had been on the verge of failing his history module, which would have led to him repeating the entire year – and a visit from his extremely irate parents. Professor Maria had made the desperate Tolle an offer he couldn't refuse. In exchange for securing Kira's cooperation for a family event, the professor would extend the deadline of the project Tolle was struggling to finish by a week. Kira, unwilling to abandon Tolle to his fate, agreed to Professor Maria's request.

The fact that Kira loved books played very much into his accepting his teacher's request. The professor's family owed books, painstakingly copied over the centuries, dating back to the era of the Solar Empire in their repository and had dealings with some of the Solar System's major publishers. Such books, Murrue knew, were not only incredibly rare; they were the relics of a lost age, valued beyond the Emperor's ransom the publishers would pay to make available to the public once more. Miriallia further added that Kira's teacher gave him two such books on his 16th birthday. One was the bestselling, '_Darkening Light: SeeDs of War'_, written by Edison Chen over two thousand years ago regarding the rise and fall of the SeeD Organization; each of the thirty chapters detailed a point in its eight-century long history and the individuals who have long ago earned their place in the pages of history for acts both famous and infamous. The second, _'By Your Eternity'_, was a novel written by Richard Traingham regarding a young boy-magician who rose to power and who reclaimed the land his mother once ruled, surrounded by his lovers and protected by an unyielding army who dared the powers of that world to try to do what they once did (3).

A voice from the intercom broke Murrue out of her thoughts, "Commander Ramius. Lieutenant-General la Flaga is here. He wishes to speak to you."

The brown-haired commander moved to her table and pushed one of the intercom's buttons, "Send him in, Alice."

The door hissed open a moment later, revealing the lean form of Mwu la Flaga, Eagle of Endymion and hero of the Bloody Valentine War. He was dressed in a grey-and-blue flight-suit, and had a stack of envelopes under one arm. She looked at them in askance, and her husband tilted his head towards Alice, who had the dignity to look embarrassed.

"Don't worry, Alice. No harm done," Murrue called out, before turning her attention to her husband, "So, how was it?"

"The recruits or the new weapons we got from Morgenroete?" Mwu asked as he sat down.

"Let's start with the recruits," Murrue replied as she started to make them some tea.

"Well…" Mwu gathered his thoughts, "I'd daresay they need more training. Most of them wouldn't last a minute against the troopers the EA churns out from its boot camps. But, I give them an 'A' for effort; no matter how hard our instructors knock them down, they keep getting back up. Some of them are naturals. I've seen no less than six people give **our** instructors pointers on how to take people down. I've got another dozen who are expert marksmen – or women – and three who are crazy enough to stalk ex-EA Rangers – and win."

"Really…?" Murrue's interest was piqued.

"Those three are buddies. Their Platoon Commander tells me that if one of them is not around, then you can bet that you will not even see the shadow of the other two. Also, their PC is recommending them for Strike Force Alpha training. Colonel Markers has no doubt submitted a request that they be transferred to his team after they have completed their boot camp."

"I see no reason to refuse him. How are their MS and AS piloting skills?"

"Nothing Marker's punishing training regime cannot solve," Mwu grinned, "He'll make them SENTINEL material one way or another. Oh, by the way…" and the blonde ace handed one of the envelopes he had brought into the room to Murrue, "this just came from Athrun. It's about Project Megiddo. He says the ships will be completed by the end of the week and that he wants to hand one of them over to us by Christmas."

Murrue nodded. Project Megiddo was a joint top-secret project undertaken by Orb's Morgenroete and the SENTINEL's R&D Institute to resurrect the formidable _Atlantis_-class submersible carriers. Once, long ago, such ships had formed the heart of a naval force on a thousand human-held planets. Regarded as mobile military bases, they allowed the planetary governors of a distant era to project her might to any part of the world under her rule – useful in the event of large-scale insurrections and/or alien invasions. ZAFT's _Vosgulov_-class submarines were the closest thing the Earth Sphere had to a submersible carrier, and those could store 6 MS in its hangars. The _Atlantis_-class, on the other hand, could field a full MS squadron in addition a full flight of supporting aircraft. And should ground operations be an operational requirement, the _A__tlantis_'s hold was large enough to hold the vehicles of an armoured company and its support elements in its confines.

But, to build such a mammoth ship had cost both Orb and the SENTINEL faction a considerable amount of resources. Only three ships could be built, and one of these was destined for the docks of the peacekeeping faction. Athrun was determined to keep the transfer under wraps; if the opposition in Orb knew of the transaction, they would cry foul.

The brown-haired SENTINEL commander opened the envelope and pulled the folder out of it before perusing its contents. She put it down ten minutes later, "Athrun has ordered Morgenroete to install a prototype Strategic Missile Defence System on the submersible carrier he is giving us. It will be complete in two days' time."

"A prototype SMD System…? Is it really necessary?" Mwu looked uneasy.

"In the days ahead, it may be," Murrue replied, "But back to the topic at hand. Regarding the new weapons from Morgenroete…?"

Mwu la Flaga gave her the second envelope, which was far thicker and heavier than the first, "If there is one thing that I like about the people in Morgenroete, it's that they deliver. The new tanks and Battlesuits will most certainly give our ground forces the advantage they need in the field. And that's **without** the _Thor _-class gunships getting into the picture – that gunship is meant to eat armour and infantry for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I recommend we have at least a squadron or two based on the ship Athrun is giving us, if only to give our infantry fast and immediate anti-armour support…"

"And the Mobile Suits…?" Murrue interrupted him.

"We'll get them, all right," Mwu replied after a long silence, "But we must see to it that our people in R&D finish the Taurus MS-MA and the MUSHA Assault Suits by March next year. We are giving Athrun's political enemies the very rope they need to hang him with – and I'm not talking about those in Orb alone."

Murrue's reply was suddenly cut off when her secretary informed her via the intercom that Chief Engineer Murdoch wanted to speak to her regarding the _Archangel_'s upgrades. The brown-haired SENTINEL commander groaned, "I'm starting to miss the days when I only had **one** ship and a hundred souls to worry about. Do you think I can get the Desert Tiger to take over this job?"

Mwu could not help but laugh at the woebegone expression on his wife's face.

**(O)**

_**PLANT Aprillius, Constellation Team Headquarters, at that very moment**_

"Are you sure what you're telling me is accurate, Ralus?"

"Yes, brother," the dark-haired young man looked at his blonde-haired counterpart on the small communications screen before him, "Anne confirmed it. Our siblings in the EA and the neutral nations have sent me classified intelligence reports pointing to the same conclusion. Genesis's Light and its affiliates have three – maybe, four – major operations running simultaneously. I would daresay that whatever it is they're planning, it is well into the advanced stages already. If Phase I of Operation Frostcrown is successful, then everything they have accomplished so far will go down the drain. If not…we'd better get ready to get our hands dirty."

The blonde officer nodded, "The hardliners in the EA administration are looking for a pretext to finish the war Azrael started, and the maggots who bought into Zala's rubbish are just as itchy. Chairman Dullindal has a rough road ahead of him…" and his eyes narrowed, "But with the resources he has – as well _**their**_ backing, it should be a walk in the park."

"Dullindal is dangerous, brother. It would be in our best interests to silence him," Ralus suggested, bringing a hot cup of tea to his lips.

"I concur, but it is best we do not. The consequences will not be to our liking. Besides, our patron wants the Chairman to play his part long enough so that our enemies will be distracted long enough for us to strike. Till that changes, don't do anything that will arouse the suspicion of the Chairman or his lackeys. Now, what about the anti-Coordinator groups…?"

Ralus's eyes shifted slightly as he read the report on his laptop, "Ockzam's Razor and their allies have five, two of which have…outside backing," the last spoken with a knowing look.

"Details…?"

Ralus told him, and he flinched as his brother's eyes turned to a shade of gold that was an undying legacy of their family's ancient ancestor. Unlike his brother, the Blood flowed thin in his veins, a fact many of his siblings were thankful for. He was close to human, but the strength and grace in his body made him the equal of any Coordinator. But his brother – or more appropriately, half-brother, as they shared the same father but different mothers – was more. And it was that peerless strength that had sown the seeds of betrayal. How his older sibling managed to contain his rage, Ralus did not know – and his brooding patience made the wrath he would unleash when the time came all the more frightening.

"I will deal with them myself."

With that simple declaration, Ralus's brother terminated the connection. And for the first time in his life, he felt a wave of pity for the terrorists. (4)

**(O)**

_**PLANT Aurelius airspace, L-4 region**_

The Aurelius PLANT was one of the most prosperous colonies in the L-4 region of space, its economy having improved significantly with the end of the Bloody Valentine War. Projects that had been abandoned when hostilities erupted between Earth and the PLANTs were resumed and its administration, having learnt a bitter lesson from the war, adopted a stance of neutrality. But, even so, the conservative faction that had once held power sought to renew ties with the PLANTs – especially as they saw that its current Chairman was nothing was like his predecessor.

The construction of Armoury 1 was proof of the faction's influence. There, the colony's chief manufacturer of armaments, Titan, worked in cohesion with ZAFT's R&D to produce MS that out outstrip those that had been used in the war two years ago. There were altogether eight Mobile Suits. Four had already been sent to PLANT; the remainder were scheduled to be transported to Aprillius in a few days' time – had news of their construction not been leaked by EA agents who managed to infiltrate the compound.

The man looked down at the pictures of the newly-constructed MS, visibly impressed by what had emerged from the forges of war – and more so that his agent had managed to acquire not only pictures of them, but their blueprints as well. Truly, 'Falcon' was an asset. He could understand why command was willing to keep him in their payroll. What surprised the man was that the hacker was young, barely twenty. Looking at him, through the secure, long-distance IPCS channel to his apartment in Aurelius, the EA commander, he was reminded of the vast resources that his superiors had at their disposal.

"This is excellent work, Falcon," the man said, closing the folder, "I cannot believe you actually managed to break through PLANTs' multi-layer firewall and encryption; even the best of the Coordinators will find difficulty accomplishing what you have just done. Your fees will be paid. And…" he paused, "I suggest that you leave the colony cluster as soon as possible. We will be attacking Armoury 1 three hours from now, and I have no wish to lose one of the best cyber-warfare experts the EA has."

The young man nodded, "Is the strike team on the colony already, commander?"

"Yes. Most likely, they are taking in the sights…" and EA officer paused as the door slid open, revealing the ship's sensor officer, "Hold on a minute, Falcon. What is it?" the last directed to his subordinate.

"Sensors report that an unidentified ship has come in."

"Unidentified, you say?" the officer rubbed his chin, and turned back towards Falcon, "Could this be?"

"It is most likely the new assault ship ZAFT has been producing: the _Minerva_," the hacker replied, "What is it doing here?"

"That's my line, Falcon. You wait for instructions. I'll get back to you."

"You think they're here to get the remaining four MS?"

"_Minerva_ is a Bloodhawk ship. Who else would Dullindal send to get his newest toys?"

**X X X**

_**Somewhere in Laurentian City, PLANT Aurelius**_

'Falcon' turned to look at the nude woman who sat in the sofa to his right, comfortable with her nakedness as a cat was with its fur. Well-endowed, but with the build of a runner, the hacker knew the woman to be one of the most dangerous he had ever met. Her long, brown hair cascaded over her shoulders and over her full breasts, and she radiated the sensuous and sultry air that turned heads and raised temperatures. The mole beneath her lip added to that allure; one she had turned full-force on him when they had first met. Her dark eyes, smoky with passion, looked at him through the corner of her eyes, hungry to drink deep of him once more.

'_I can help you__,__'_ she had told him years back, _'but in return, you must help us in our endeavour.'_

The screen on the hacker's laptop came alive once more, and he blanched as cold eyes regarded him. Even though the other person was sitting in his throne room worlds away, the power and authority vested in this ashen-armoured king was staggering. The hacker's companion, upon seeing the expression on his face, stood up, but he raised a hand. It was clear in the body language of the other that he wanted to speak to him alone.

"Is it done?" the voice was the soft whisper of the winter wind, chilling in its intensity.

"Yes, my lord. All is as you have asked. The Earth Army moves according to our lords' directives."

"Good."

"My lord," the hacker added, "the Earth Army commander has requested I leave the colony, as the impending attack he plans may well put me in harm's way. Do I have your permission to leave?"

"Do so," the man said before terminating the connection.

The hacker turned to face the woman next to him, wanting to ask how in Hell did her master know how to reach him. The latter moved forward and put a finger to his lips, "Don't bother. He has his ways. And I," and she sat on his lap, pulling off the towel that covered his pulsing erection, "have mine…"

"This is not a good time, Maya…" the hacker said, "We have to leave before…"

The older woman smirked, and kissed her younger lover, "Didn't you hear the Earth Army commander? He said to wait. And knowing him, he would make sure he has a full picture of what's going on before he orders the attack. That means…" her smirk became a playful one, "we have time." (5)

**X X X**

_**Laurentian City, PLANT Aurelius, shopping district, an hour later**_

"Ah, it's been a long time since we were allowed shore leave. It's good to be stretching our limbs, eh, Shinn?" Youlan Chang, one of the engineers of the new ZAFT Assault Ship, _Minerva_, said as they strode out the mall, "You got what you wanted?"

Beside him, a young man with a mop of dark hair and crimson eyes looked up, "Yeah. But there's one last thing I need to get for Lunamaria and her sister. After that, we can head back to the ship. I want to redo some segments of the OS; the accuracy is not what it should be and its reaction time is half mine! I'd get killed in a real fight…"

"What do you think, man?" Shinn's compatriot snorted as they turned into an alleyway leading to the adjoining road, "The guys in the Factory standardize the MS's OS, but it's up to its pilots to fine-tune it. And besides," Youlan grinned, "it was a pretty good move for you to get Lunamaria and Meyrin to do it for you in exchange for your getting things for them."

Shinn scowled, "You make me look and sound…!" and he yelped as someone crashed into him. Down went the young ZAFT pilot's shopping bag, as his arms went instinctively around the person who had crashed into him to prevent the later from falling. Shinn Asuka's eyes widened. In his arms was a beautiful girl with golden hair and pink eyes, wearing a blue dress.

"Who are you…?"

**X X X**

_**The gears of destiny turn faster now.**_

**X X X**

She had dreamt of him, but this one was not him.

Where are you, brother…? Where have you gone?

**(O)**

_**The ruins of Junius-7, the debris belt**_

Junius-7 was a massive graveyard and tombstone in one, floating amidst the detritus of space junk that had collected for over two thousand years. It was a treasure trove for Junkers and scavengers alike, who made a living by selling what they could find to interested parties. But the small battle-group that had gathered here had made it clear that any who dared to desecrate the graveyard-colony would not live to do so a second time. The remains of two ships belonging to the Artemis Junker Guild floated in the emptiness of space, its Assault Suit escort blown to bits by the superior armaments of their enemies - enemies that bore the hourglass-and-sunburst emblem of Genesis's Light.

A Gundam landed before the enormous stone memorial, where an oath was inscribed. The eyes of its pilot narrowed as he read the inscription upon it. There was no doubt in his mind that the words came from the bitch who betrayed her race to its enemies. It was an insult to the quarter million innocents who have died in the nucleonic fires born of the Naturals' intolerance and ego. But what could one expect of an inferior race? Weak, limited in both intellect and vision, small of heart and mind, what could they accomplish that the Coordinators could not? Indeed, in hindsight, it was because of such flaws that one of the mightiest of humanity's star-spanning republics fell. The thought of the Naturals reclaiming that glorious past made Arden Clarkson, the Iron Wolf of ZAFT, ill.

There would be a hundred – no, a thousand – more Junius-7s. No, it was better that the Naturals were eradicated. Only the Coordinator was worthy of inheriting the stars. Patrick Zala was right in more ways than one. And the mission the Iron Wolf headed would be a step in that direction. He raised his Gundam's gun and rained a hail of high-velocity, AP rounds on the memorial, reducing the marble to splintered shards. His compatriot, Maximilian Gerald, would take care of Lacus Clyne and her allies. The man had sworn to make the songstress suffer before he sent her to Hell.

And knowing Gerald, the songstress would beg for death before long. The Iron Wolf opened up a channel to the Laurasia-class ship hovering overhead, "Is the _Vengeful Spirit_ here yet, Ali?"

The swarthy face of Arden's second-in-command, Ali Ibn Salfaz, appeared on the upper right communication screen, "They'll be late, boss. Can't be helped; the EA and their allies know we're up to something in this area and are trying to find out what. If the _Vengeful Spirit_ gets caught, they'd know, and the mission is as good as over."

Arden made a displeased sound, "Anything from Gerald?"

Ali nodded, "Gerald sent me an encrypted message. Wants me to tell you they've managed to infiltrate Neo-Stratos. He's planning to strike during the Memorial Concert, same time as when our Griever and his do. Boss, between you and me, I don't like Griever and his people. They'd sell us out…"

"Mercenaries are useful in this instance, Ali," Arden cut in, "They make excellent scapegoats. Lacus Clyne is a well-loved individual. If we are found to be responsible for her death, public opinion will turn against us and we will be regarded as criminals by the very people we are trying to protect. The mercenaries' involvement will allow us to pin the blame squarely on the EA – and the hardliners within Copeland's administration will most certainly take the bait. Especially," the Iron Wolf emphasized the word, "when Operation Frostcrown fails…"

**(O)**

_**Laurentian City, PLANT Aurelius, Military Spaceport **_

Cagalli Zala and her entourage strode past the long line of saluting ZAFT soldiers and officers to where a lean, dark-haired man with amber eyes stood. Tall and regal, Gilbert Dullindal, Chairman of PLANT, had the bearing of a King. Humour danced in his eyes, and was magnified by his smile as he shook the hand of the young woman upon whose shoulders the duty of ruling a nation fell. It was not something to be scoffed at; Cagalli Zala was proving herself to be the equal of her father.

Dullindal turned his gaze to the men and women behind the Lioness of Orb. Clad in royal purple and silver, holding swords as beautiful as they were deadly, were the famed Sardaukar, the Lioness's personal guard. Each met the Chairman's gaze without flinching and nodded in greeting. Athrun Zala had truly done his work well. The Sardaukar were as formidable as those warriors they took their names after.

"Welcome to Aurelius, Chairman Zala," Dullindal said, "I apologize that I had to have you meet me here instead of at Neo-Stratos as we agreed, but there were some urgent matters I had to see to."

"That's fine by me, Dullindal," the Lioness replied, "I would sooner see this matter out of the way before we head for Neo-Stratos."

**(O)**

_**SENTINEL HQ, Bastion Island, Orb Union**_

Murrue leaned back into her chair, her meeting with Murdoch over. The _Archangel_'s upgrades were done. And with that out of the way, the Supreme Commander of the SENTINEL faction turned her attention to the last problem: how to tell her husband about her pregnancy. She had been debating on the manner in which to twist the knife, and settled on the direct approach. She grinned inwardly; had Kira been alive, he would definitely love the expression on Mwu's face. It would settle a dozen scores. But Murrue also knew that her pregnancy would severely curtail her ability to lead the SENTINELs. She had to appoint someone to take her place when she went on maternity leave. She had several people in mind, but wanted to discuss it with her husband first.

But before she could launch the first volley, her husband launched a pre-emptive attack, never realizing that he had saved himself from imminent doom. Murrue sighed inwardly; they would be time enough later. Mwu handed his wife two of the envelopes. One of them bore the symbol of the ESNN; the second that of the Earth Alliance. Both of them had 'Urgent' stamped on them, and were from people Murrue knew, namely Miriallia Haw and Natarle Badgiruel.

Murrue opted to open Miriallia's first. The girl had become a war correspondent and was a familiar face on the news network's coverage of hot spots. When they had last met, she had told Murrue about how Sai and Kazui were doing. The bespectacled scion of the influential Argyle family had joined one of Orb's newest engineering firms, becoming a technical expert in MS design and programming. He was currently designing a new Assault Suit (6) from the SCT template from the Dominion era, which would reach the production line within a few months time. Kazui Buskirk, who had left the _Archangel_ when it docked a second time in Orb after the fall of Alaska, was now a cook in a restaurant. He had taken the news of Kira's death as badly as his ex-schoolmates, but took solace in the fact that his shy classmate's sacrifice had not been for nothing.

It amazed her that Kira's classmates still trusted her as much as they did, despite what she had put them through. Murrue pulled out a folder from the envelope and opened it. Within a few lines, Murrue's eyes widened as some questions she had regarding a recent clash in Africa were answered. Miriallia had been at a particular hot zone some weeks back; more accurately, she had been at ground zero in Somalia, where the Genesis's Light and Ockzam's Razor terrorist groups had clashed over control of one of the resource-rich southern provinces. The winner of that battle would be able to strike EA or ZAFT bases in the region. Murrue turned to the next page, which consisted of a map of countries and bases under the control of either the EA or ZAFT and the force dispositions of both.

The brown-haired general's eyebrows hit her hairline. How in all that was holy did Miriallia get hold of this information? This was practically Ministry of Defence material – and one that was kept under lock, key and guard! She also had detailed information on the recent political manoeuvring in the Middle East as well: the centuries-old monarchy of Saudi Arabia had its eye on southern Somalia for some time now; control of that region would improve their standing in the EA Senate. Unfortunately for all involved, the winners of that fight had been the Genesis's Light faction. Even though southern Somalia was still considered under EA control, the agents of Genesis Light would ensure that that control was tenuous at best. A small Genesis's Light combat cell was the equivalent of an EA infantry company, and Murrue knew that the terrorist faction would deploy several – including MS squadrons – to ensure that the region remained under their control.

When Murrue turned to the next page, Miriallia revealed why the Genesis's Light faction, outnumbered four-to-one by the Ockzam's Razor faction and its allies, had won. It had been because of one Gundam and its pilot. Murrue's eyes were drawn not to the Gundam's resemblance to the Duel, which had been part of the now-defunct G-Project that brought the Strike Daggers into being, but the face of its pilot. The blood drained from Murrue's face. It couldn't be…!

Mwu, seeing the horrified expression on her face, quickly moved to her side. One look at the page his wife was reading caused the normally-unflappable Eagle of Endymion to freeze. His voice, when he finally spoke, was hoarse, "Is that…?"

"I don't know…." Murrue finally replied, reading what Miriallia had written. The girl had apparently managed to catch the face of the Gundam's pilot as he emerged from his MS. The first photograph was blurry, clearly taken in a hurry, but the second – which had been taken in the town where the Genesis's Light forces had set up a temporary base – was clearer. Both times, the subject Miriallia had turned her camera on was looking straight at her.

Miriallia had circled in red the scar on the young man's face…a cross-shaped scar both Mwu and Murrue had seen in the final moments when Kira Yamato had breathed his last. But the fierce light in this Kira-lookalike's eyes was an inferno, the rage within dwarfing the corrosive light of the GENESIS gun. The leonine appearance of this 'Kira' gave the Genesis Light's pilot a predatory air.

"Could he have…?" Mwu asked.

Murrue shook her head, "Mwu, everyone saw him die. This person, whoever he is…cannot be Kira."

"A clone, perhaps…?" Mwu ventured, remembering what he had seen on Colony Mendel and his father's desperate attempt to cheat death. There were so many secrets behind Kira. The Ultimate Coordinator Project Rau le Creuset had spoken of; his father's desire to cheat death and to find an heir worthy of the la Flaga name; the Bloody Valentine War and the events leading up to it – the blonde pilot felt as if everything was part of some grand drama that had yet to play out, and that his part in it had yet to end.

"Are you thinking about what he said?" Murrue asked her husband. She knew that whenever Mwu thought about the sinister, white-garbed Bloodhawk Commander, the expression on his face bordered on murderous.

"Yes…" Mwu replied after a long silence, "Cloning technology may be banned in the Earth Sphere, but not outside of it. The Martian Dominions use it extensively. If he," Mwu looked down at the picture of the 'Kira' Miriallia had sent them, "is a clone, then we have a very big problem. The cloning facilities in the Martian Dominions are under the control of their respective governments. If there is a renegade scientist on the loose, we have to inform their ambassadors in Washington."

Murrue scowled: Going to Washington, D.C., was the last thing she wanted to do. There were no few people in the EA's capital who would not hesitate to throw her into the nearest cell and throw away the key, political fallout be damned. She was a traitor to the EA and that was the end of it!

"I know, darling," Mwu said, and kissed his wife's head, "But that's the way it is. Politics, as Cagalli has pointed out on no few occasions, stinks. And I agree with her."

Murrue rolled her eyes, before returning them to the report she held in her hands. There were too many unanswered questions. She needed more pieces of the puzzle before she could come to a conclusion. She closed the folder and put it on the table, "There're too many pieces missing, Mwu. Far too many…" and she let out a long breath, "Had Kira been alive, we could have found out more. But the only people who know the full story are either dead or missing…"

"I've heard it said that ignorance is bliss, Murrue," Mwu said, putting aside his drink and walking towards the window, "Whatever secrets my father hid; whatever secrets Kira knew or was unaware of; whatever answers were lost by those who have passed on or went missing, let them remain buried. No good can come of our knowing."

"Except perhaps being told that you are about to become a father," Murrue replied after a long silence, hoping to change the subject to something that would lighten the air.

It worked. When asked many, many years later by her daughter how her father had reacted to her mother's pregnancy, the latter would reply: "It was a classic twirl and crash."

Mwu la Flaga stared at his wife from the floor with a look of shock, "Y-You're…"

"Three months."

"I'm…"

"Yes, you are," Murrue's grin would have made the Cheshire cat proud, "And I'm going to make sure you give our first child a sibling or two. Or three…"

Mwu fainted. And when Murrue's secretary called in seconds later, telling her superior that Natarle was on a secure IPCS line, wanting to speak to her about an urgent matter, the SENTINEL commander had no choice but to slap and shake her husband back into consciousness, laughing all the while.

**(O)**

_**Equatorial Union, Singapore, the Batam Mass-Driver facility**_

Kisaragi Ayumi knew that her decision to leave the Iron Throne Junkers Guild would rile Arnold Walsh, its leader, a great deal. There were only a handful of people in the Earth Sphere who would dare to risk the wrath of the Iron Throne's leader, and these were the ones who had the money – and the power – to tell him to fuck off. Ayumi was not one of them, which was why she had to give the man a very good reason as to why she was terminating a contract that stated that she would be in Arnold's employ till the end of C.E. 76. Telling him the truth was a bad idea; it would do more than ruin her reputation in more ways than one and give Ayumi's ex-employer a good reason to sic the killers on her ass. Byron had been more than willing to help and had forged a letter – with the consent and knowledge of one of his peers – on her behalf. That way, the lie would hold water.

Sighing, Ayumi turned back to face her soon-to-be ex-employer, thankful that they were hundreds of kilometres apart and speaking through vid-link. She was sorely tempted to run him through. "I keep telling you that I have no choice in the matter. I owe them big, Arnold. And I'm doing this to save the Throne. The last thing you want to do is make the lords of the Ashen Army angry."

"But why you and not one of their own, Ayumi…?" Arnold asked.

"Because I am the best person for the job," the golden-haired mercenary replied with a playful grin, "Wasn't that the reason you hired me in the first place? Think of it this way, Arnie. If I go, I can help you link up with some very powerful people. People who are willing to pay you for the stuff we can give them – or the services we can provide. And I'll work for you again after I'm done, okay?"

The big man leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful as he weighed the pros and cons of letting her go. Finally, after several minutes of silence, he nodded his assent, "I trust you, Ayumi. Do not make me regret doing so."

The young woman nodded and closed the connection. Arnold had bought her bluff. Now, all that was left to do was do what she set out to do. Next stop: Tokyo-3, Japan. There was someone there she wanted to meet. He would most likely be able to give her the information she wanted.

**(O)**

_**Neo-Stratos, EA Anti-Terrorist Group Cerberus HQ, an hour later**_

Mikagami Aya glared at her half-sister, whose brown eyes met her own with a fury that time had yet to heal, as the latter landed beyond the reach of her twin katanas. Moving with the grace of a cat, the younger girl circled her older half-sibling, looking for an opening that would bring an end to a rivalry that had all but laid waste to a once-powerful family. Aya knew that Saki was dangerous, but that knowledge did little to intimidate her. Rather, the rivalry between them excited her. It was a heady, addictive thing, and Aya had more than once stoked the fires of her younger half-sibling's ire.

Saki hated her for many reasons. She had always been their father's favorite. She was the one chosen to fulfill the task he had failed in doing (though Aya wondered how she could do that, as the one she had been called upon to protect had died in the Bloody Valentine War). She was the one who would inherit the still-considerable wealth amassed by the Mikagami family over the centuries. Saki had nothing. Had it not been for Reiko, who had brought her into Cerberus days after recruiting Aya, the younger girl would have ended up dead or working for the underworld as a hired killer.

Aya dashed in, vectoring in at a sharp angle and swinging _Kamikaze_ with the speed and strength that had once earned her ancestors a place in both the Royal Guard of the Dominion's Empress and, much later, in those of the Shogunate. Saki barely had time to block the blindingly fast, terrifyingly strong, strike that almost sent her flying. _'She's gotten stronger,'_ Aya mused, instants before her younger half-sibling leapt to the side and launched her counterattack. Saki unleashed a rain of blows, forcing Aya to block and backpedal. Each stroke was swift and sharp, delivered by the hand of a master swordsman. The feral grin on Saki's lips matched Aya's own. The older girl knew she was running out of room; she had to turn the tide – and quickly – or risk losing her head. Saki was not in the mood to be merciful.

Aya crossed her blades and took the next strike. Her eyes widened as the blow practically sent her crashing to her knees. She gritted her teeth, and threw Saki's _Yukihime_ back, before lashing out with _Sakura_. Saki quickly swept her five-_shaku_ katana to block her older half-sibling's sword before it cut her legs out from under her. A single twist of her wrist wrenched and threw the blade across the room. Aya did not hesitate to put her knee into Saki's solar plexus, punching all the air out of her and performing a back-flip that saw to her legs slamming under the younger girl's chin.

Saki staggered backwards, disoriented by the power and speed of the blows her older half-sibling had landed on her. Before she could recover, she found herself crashing to the ground and felt the cold steel of Aya's _Kamikaze_ resting on her neck. When her vision cleared, she saw her older half-sibling looking down at her with an expression of amused contempt, "Is that it, Saki-chan? Was that your 'best'? I've faced down gangsters who have lasted longer."

The younger, dark-haired girl gritted her teeth, biting back the acerbic remark that would spell the end of her life. Her hand tightened around _Yukihime,_ but the sound of a book being slammed shut caused both her and Aya to look at the bespectacled, regal woman who stood with her back to the wall. "Enough," the woman spoke to the two of them, "Aya, sheathe your swords. The match is yours. Saki, you will return to the _Charon_ and join the crew on duty."

"But…"

"No buts, Saki. That was the deal. Loser of the match goes back to the _Charon_. Aya, had she lost, would have done so – and with little to no fuss on her part."

"….all right."

"Good. You can leave a list of what you want me to buy after you've dressed up," the brown-haired woman indicated the changing room with her eyes, "Now, get moving. And Saki…" the girl turned back to face the woman, "Losing a battle does not mean you've lost the war."

"I know, Reiko-_neechan_," Saki replied before she entered the changing room. Asagami Reiko rubbed her temples; dealing with the two Mikagami sisters – her cousins – was stressful, to say the least. There wasn't a day when she did not have to worry about the younger Saki trying to settle the score with her older half-sister. Aya had never initiated any of the confrontations, but today was the first time Reiko had seen her cousin react as aggressively as she did.

Reiko turned her attention on Aya, who was wiping her face and arms with a towel, _Sakura _and _Kamikaze_ on her lap, "Aya, I received word from Uncle Daizaburo."

The swordswoman looked up, "Father? What does he want?"

"It's regarding Uncle Hibiki's son."

Aya's eyes widened.

"Uncle Daizaburo says that there is a high possibility that he may still be alive," Reiko finished, "On what grounds he believes this to be true, I don't know, but he was quite adamant about it. There…is no way, no **how**, that anyone can survive a direct shot from the _Dominion_'s main guns and…" the Cerberus senior officer froze in mid-sentence when she saw something that she thought would never happen in her lifetime. Her cousin was smiling. The stern, sardonic girl who smiled only when her katanas were turning _yakuza_ mobsters and the mafia's worst into sushi…was smiling!

And it was not the chilling smile that Reiko had seen grace Aya's face so many times before. It was a warm, happy smile, one that looked _perfect_ – for lack of better words – on her cousin's face.

"No, Reiko. He's alive," and Aya stood up, "And he's waiting for us. For all of us…" (7)

**(O)**

_**The sound of its turning is heard by many.**_

_**An Age lost to myth is returning.**_

_**And the Children of Fate gather.**_

**(O)**

_**SENTINEL HQ, Bastion Island, Orb Union, Earth**_

The Natarle Murrue saw on the large multi-purpose screen behind her was a far cry from the woman she and her husband had fought alongside – and against – two years ago. It amazed them as to how much the former First Officer of the _Archangel_ had changed. Natarle's hair was longer, cascading over her shoulders and cradling her face in its gentle embrace, a stark contrast to the white and crimson EA uniform she wore. Her violet eyes lacked the icy edge that Mwu had once described as miniature Lohengrins. '_If our main guns ever went down,_ Mwu had once told her in private when the _Archangel_ docked in Orb the first time, _'just send Natarle out and have her glare at the enemy ship – it'll go down in no time!' _

"It has been a long time, Natarle," Murrue said as she regarded her former First Officer, who nodded in greeting, "How have you been?"

"Busy, what with Operation Frostcrown about to begin," the commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ replied, "But regarding that, have you received the updated dossier yet? There have been some changes to the force composition." (8)

Murrue exchanged looks with Mwu, "Not yet. Is it all right if you send us a copy?"

"Certainly…" Natarle set up an encrypted data-transfer link, "I'm sorry I could not attend your wedding last year, Murrue. I was on duty at the time…and things were rather chaotic in the weeks after the War ended."

Murrue knew what Natarle was talking about. In the months following the end of the Bloody Valentine War, agitators hoping to end the decades-long alliance between the Eurasian Federation and the Atlantic Federation managed to get hold of certain incriminating details regarding the transfer of control of the Atlantic Federation's Alaskan Base to the Eurasian Federation military. These were leaked to officers and politicians within the Eurasian Federation who shared the agitators' view that the Eurasian Federation should stand as a separate entity rather than be part of the Earth Alliance. One copy of the document had even made its way into Murrue's mailbox, courtesy of one of the agitators who hoped that the _Archangel_ and the fledgling SENTINEL army would fight alongside them to right the wrong that had been committed at Alaska. Those officers and politicians presented their findings to their congressional leaders in London. Murrue wisely chose to distance herself from the entire affair; it was, after all, a problem that only the EA – who had caused the Alaskan Massacre in the first place – could solve. After a lengthy investigation, the secessionists within the Eurasian Federation presented their findings to their leaders in London. The latter promptly laughed it off as an elaborate conspiracy theory and stated that the attack on the Alaskan Base was nothing more than an unfortunate coincidence. Outraged, and realizing that justice could only be done if their leaders were removed from power, the secessionists staged a coup. Though brief, the damage it had done to Eurasian-Atlantic ties was immense. President Copeland and his allies had had to spend considerable amount of effort and resources to repair it (and cover up the Atlantic Federation's involvement in the Alaskan massacre).

The document Murrue received from the agitators who caused the Aleutian affair (as the coup was called) answered many of the questions Murrue and her husband had regarding the War. The decision ZAFT had made to target Alaska instead of Panama; EA High Command's decision to construct the CYCLOPs System beneath Alaska; the transfer of command; the political fallout and the subsequent escalation of the War – none of it had been a coincidence. It had all been planned.

The savage, twisted genius and foresight of Rau le Creuset was staggering. He had steered the EA and the PLANTs into an apocalyptic confrontation, using its leaders as the instruments of his wrath, with the intended aim of wiping the Earth Sphere clean of life and had predicted that even if peace came, it would be a fragile one. And though long dead, his machinations still held the power to wreck untold harm upon the Earth Sphere.

"I understand, Natarle," Murrue replied. Natarle's decision to remain within the EA was a testament to her conviction to change it from within. She had watched as Natarle defended her actions from a military court all too determined to convict her, and the furious Alexander Badgiruel putting his foot down. The supreme commander of the EA's Capital Defense Force warned that if his niece went to jail for doing the right thing, the judges and their backers would end up in a prison facility on the PLANTs for crimes against humanity. It was a potent threat made all the more so by the fact that Alexander had allies both within the administration and the military.

The melodious tone emanating from Murrue's laptop broke her out of her train of thought; the file Natarle had promised her had arrived. The SENTINEL commander glanced through it, taking in the main points, before turning her attention back to her dark-haired counterpart, "You're going to have your hands full, Natarle…"

"Please tell me something I don't know," the dark-haired EA officer put a hand to her temple, "While I appreciate having a larger force at my disposal, the chances of the extremists getting word of this is extremely high. And if that happens, there'll be hell to pay…"

Murrue chuckled, "That's what it means to command. The stress and the headaches are part of the package."

Natarle fired her former superior a dirty look, "I'd give you my job, if I could."

"Thank you, but no. I have no intention of taking on more than I can handle. And besides, Operation Frostcrown will give me and my people a chance to go on vacation. You have no idea how busy we have been this past year and a half. And besides, I know you will do a better job than me."

Mwu looked at his smirking wife and back at the annoyed Natarle in alarm, and stepped in before things got out of hand, "So, Natarle. I assume that there is something you wanted to speak to us about. You rarely call – and when you do, it's normally enough to have Murrue-girl sit up and take notice. What is this about?"

The dark-haired officer looked in his direction, "Are you saying you miss me, la Flaga?"

"Saying yes would mean Murrue would kill me. Saying no would lead to you shooting me on our next meeting," Mwu responded gamely, "And I admit that if you were around, running the SENTINELs would be a lot easier. You have a good eye for organization."

Natarle shook her head, "I'll take he hasn't changed, has he, Murrue?"

"Nope," Murrue rolled her eyes in mock-exasperation, "Married to me, hitting on you, and the female cadets in the SENTINEL Academy worshipping the ground he walks on – Casanova, eat your heart out!"

"You don't complain when I do the eating, do you?" Mwu replied, leaning over and blowing into Murrue's ear, causing the latter to blush profusely, "After all, I can make the impossible possible. As you already well know…"

It took Natarle several minutes for her to regain her composure, her violet eyes bright with mirth, "I thank God that Kira was not like you, Mwu. If he had been, I would have tossed him out of the _Archangel_'s airlock before long. But, it's because of Kira that I called you," and the mirth in Natarle's eyes dimmed, "I have something you should know."

**(O)**

_**EA Sabertooth Special Forces battleship, Acheron**_

Warren Fuller, commander of the EA Sabertooth Special Force detachment sent to take part in Operation Frostcrown, looked at the men and women under his command. There were 20 of them in all, all of whom Warren knew by name. 20 apes who could wreck a bar (and beat the crap out of everyone in it) in less than ten minutes and drink it dry in less than half the time. Some of them had been reluctant to go on the mission, and Warren understood why. Some of them stuck to the belief that the only good Coordinator was a dead one, and that anyone not under the blue and white of the EA was a potential enemy to be watched carefully. The rest of the group was more sanguine. They have a common enemy, and these bozos wanted the peace that people had paid with their lives to end. No way, ho say. Sabertooth is on the prowl, and someone's gonna pay.

It helped that Warren's friend, Oleg Vodnik, a colonel in the Einherjar Special Forces, had been roped in as well. Knowing that their rivals had been called in, Warren's team became more focused. If they finished this mission with the people in Einherjar getting a lion's share of the credit, they would be eating shit when they got back to Arizona (where the Sabertooth main HQ and training grounds were).

It also helped that Sabertooth Command had dispatched one of its best, namely one Tanya Williams. Warren turned to look at the commando, who was sitting at the back, looking through the files she downloaded from Military Intelligence HQ on Earth via her chair's ISIS computer. Tanya was, like the Eagle of Endymion, a legend in the ranks of the Earth Army. Originally part of the EA's North African Army Divisions led by Major-General Rumsfeld, Tanya had taken part in Operation Angry Cobra which nearly led to the Desert Tiger being defeated. Her infiltration and destruction of ZAFT's main supply depot at Cairo had been the event that turned a run-of-the-mill commando into a legend. The fact that she managed to demolish the base **AND** run away with six BaCUEs served only to add insult to injury. That had been when Divisional Command promoted her and transferred her to Sabertooth.

Tanya had made two conditions before she agreed to the transfer: she gets to keep the BaCUE she stole from ZAFT, and her team gets transferred in with her. Due to a shortage of space, her team's BaCUEs had to be stored on the Einherjar ship, the _Hammer of Thor_, to make way for the Strike Daggers used by the Sabertooth MS pilots.

Warren looked at his watch. What was taking Oleg and his people so long? The door hissed open, and the Sabertooth commander looked up, expecting to see the big Russian man and his Einherjar. Instead, he saw himself meeting the gaze of Maria Andersen, the ship's Chief Medical Officer and the walking wet dream of the _Acheron_. Warren felt his mouth run dry and his blood pressure skyrocket. If the Devil had a female form, one of his more conservative officers had told him in private, it would have taken the form of Maria Andersen. Priests would be **sorely** tempted to kick a hole in the stained glass window the moment they saw her.

"Good morning, Warren. I'm sorry I'm late," Maria said, running a hand through her snow-blonde locks, "There was something I had to do."

"Don't worry about it. Oleg is late as well. Any idea what's keeping him?" Warren asked.

"He's in an IPCS conference with General Nikolai. He told me to tell you to continue the briefing without him – and that he's sorry. You know what the old wolf is like. He'll brief the Einherjar on his own. Oh, and Oleg says he'll buy you a beer when we get to Neo-Stratos."

"Will you allow us to do the same, Captain Maria?" one of Warren's men called out. The Sabertooth commander rolled his eyes. Warren did not need to be a mind-reader to know what was on his subordinate's mind. He was about to tell the latter to knock it off, but Maria soon beat him to the punch, "Maybe. And that is if I don't meet someone hotter than you."

Warren found it hard to not laugh at the woebegone expression on his comrade's face.

**X X X**

_**EA Einherjar Special Forces battleship, Hammer of Thor**_

Oleg Vodnik, Commander of the Einherjar detachment, leaned back in his chair, digesting the information he had received from Moscow. He turned his attention back to his superior officer, "How accurate is this information, General? I find it hard to believe that Major-General Zhana, of **ALL** people, would have dealings with the terrorist groups. She has no reason to!"

"I agree. That is why I have sent Colonel Dasha to investigate the matter further. All of this may be a scheme hatched by the politicians in Washington to weaken the Eurasian Federation further. If it is, I intend to find out who it is – and have him shot, the consequences be damned."

"That is not something you would want Moscow to hear, sir."

"Faugh!" the general spat in disgust, "What do those idiots know? They would roll over if Washington tells them to do so. Weaklings! It is because of them and those bootlickers in London that the Eurasian Federation's military is practically in tatters! And it is because of them that I have to spend a considerable amount of my time training men and women who would most likely die in the first engagement!"

Oleg winced inwardly, and raised an eyebrow at the snickering woman who leaned against the nearby wall, "They can't be that bad. And if they are, our instructors will make real soldiers out of them, sir. After all, look at what they did to **ME**! You practically throw work in my direction as if I was the one commanding the Sector Army."

The general cracked a smile at that, but it faded swiftly, "But back to the matter at hand, Oleg. I have a job for you and Natasha. Is she there?"

The Russian man nodded, and beckoned Natasha to come over.

"Is there something you want done, sir?" Natasha asked.

"Yes. I want you and Oleg to keep an eye on your Sabertooth allies and see if you can get your hands on any information that comes into their possession. I know this will not be easy, but there is no one else I can ask to do the job. The reason I'm asking is because I have it on good sources that the information that I'm getting from Washington may have been doctored."

Oleg found himself unable to speak upon hearing that. Even Natasha looked amazed, and the Russian man knew how hard it was to blindside the commando. What in the name of Christ is going on in Moscow?

"Why would they do that, sir?" Oleg asked, finally.

"That's what I want to know. And once I have enough information, I will."

**X X X**

_**Moscow, EA-Russia Military High Command**_

General Nikolai Krukov closed the channel, and leaned back in his chair, only to shoot up when a small screen suddenly opened up on his laptop, revealing a man clad in ashen armor and his brown hair held in place by a gleaming, winged crown that bespoke of his high rank. He was not alone in what was clearly a strategic planning room. There were several women with him, all wearing cloaks and heavy hoods and masks. Their curvaceous bodies were clad in a mixture of scroll-worked steel and silk, and each held ornate staffs that ended in a vicious array of blades.

The younger man's dark blue eyes regarded the Russian general with an intensity that made the latter uncomfortable. Adding to that discomfort was the fact that **they** had managed to hack into the EA's secure IPCS communications network, something not even ZAFT's formidable military intelligence branch had managed to do during the Bloody Valentine War (though not for lack of trying!).

"Is it done, Nikolai?" the man asked.

"Yes, Prince Astellan. It is done. You can tell your father that we are ready to proceed with the next phase of the plan. Battalions loyal to our cause have been moved to the cities of Udsk, Okhotsk and Yakutsk, as planned. Is there anything else you wish to see done?"

"Secure those cities as best you can, general," the young prince replied, "If this can be done bloodlessly, all the better."

"Yes, my lord." (9)

**(O)**

_**SENTINEL HQ, Bastion Island, Orb Union**_

Murrue leaned back in her chair, her eyes wide with disbelief as she read through Natarle's findings. How was it possible? The findings the dark-haired EA officer had shared with her raised several questions, some of which led into dangerous territory and some which clearly had no answers. Looking down at the folder Miriallia had sent her, she could see the likeness Cross Lionheart, Commander of ZAFT's Constellation Team Leo, had with the ace pilot of Genesis's Light. Voice pattern analysis and physical cross-reference revealed that the ZAFT Commander had a 98% correlation with the long-dead Kira Yamato, had the last lived to see his 18th birthday.

The SENTINEL commander took in a deep breath, "Natarle, did you hear about the incident in Somalia some weeks back?"

"Yes. What about it?"

Murrue raised the folder Miriallia had sent her, holding open the page which had given both her and a husband such a shock, "You are not the only one to come into contact with a lookalike of our dead friend."

Natarle's eyebrows shot up to her hairline, "Is that…?"

"I can assure you that this is not Cross Lionheart. This is the ace pilot who was instrumental in delivering much of southern Somalia into extremist control. Miriallia managed to catch a picture of him twice. The first time was after they crushed the Ockzam's Razor units that had arrived to contest their claim on the region. The second was when Genesis's Light established a temporary base in the area."

The dark-haired EA officer looked back at Murrue, "Did he **allow** her to take his picture? He's"

"You noticed," Murrue said as she lowered the folder, "I think he did. But for what reason, I don't know."

"What is his name?"

"I don't know. Intelligence is still trying to find out. What is clear, however, is that he is not a member of Genesis's Light. The markings on his MS indicate that he is part of a mercenary unit. The question is which one. There are at least a thousand such outfits in the Earth Sphere alone, and it will take a while for my people to find out."

"Contact me when you do. I've included my frequency channel on the file I've sent you. Oh, and before I forget…" and Natarle opened a sub-screen, revealing details of the ZAFT Constellation Team Commander that his superiors saw fit to share, "Cross Lionheart's date of birth and birthplace are unknown. Annotations from ZAFT's medical corps indicate that he suffers from amnesia and third-degree PTSD. He is also one of the first subjects of the Cybernetics Enhancement Program. And here's something the two of you will find interesting: he was found two years ago prior to his enlistment in ZAFT by a rescue team close to where the GENESIS gun had been."

Murrue and Mwu exchanged startled looks, but it was the second who gave voice to the question in both their heads, "Could he have survived…?"

Natarle shook her head, "That was what I thought at first, Mwu. But think about it: Freedom was badly damaged in the fight with Providence. It barely managed to get away from the explosion that destroyed the GENESIS. Then, it took the full brunt of the _Dominion_'s main guns. What are the chances of Kira surviving that? It would take a miracle, Mwu. And miracles are hard to come by in this bloody era."

"True," Mwu smiled, "But that I managed to survive the bloodiest conflict ever since the end of the Earth-Mars War over a century ago is a miracle; that we **survived** the guns of both the EA and ZAFT fleets at the Battle of the Solomon Sea (10) is a miracle. That we managed to end this war is one. That you changed from the ice queen to what you are now…can be counted as one."

Natarle could not help but laugh, the self-loathing evident in its tone.

"Nettie," Murrue addressed Natarle by the nickname her husband had given her friend, "Does anyone else know about you findings?"

"No. Not even Angel – that is the name Fllay goes by now – knows."

"Good. Keep it that way. This is to be kept between the three of us," Murrue paused briefly, "No, make that four. There is a high chance that Miriallia might have come to the same conclusions we have. The Constellation Teams are not exactly unknown to the Earth Sphere's media networks. I will speak to Miriallia after this. Until we have credible evidence that Cross Lionheart – or Genesis's Light's ace pilot – is Kira, this goes no further than our memories."

The Eagle of Endymion turned his gaze on the picture which held a place of honour above his wife's sabre. His eyes locked onto one in which the daughter of the late Undersecretary of the Earth Alliance, George Allster, was the primary subject. Taken in the aftermath of the Desert Tiger's defeat, Fllay had been approached by several young girls, daughters of the resistance fighters of the Desert Dawn, and who had put a beautiful, hand-woven veil on her head. Kira was in the picture as well, slack-jawed, his violet eyes misty, seeing an impossible future.

Jackie had captured that magical moment and consigned its memory to eternity.

Mwu smiled. Now that was an idea! He would make a copy of the picture and send it to Angel. The Eagle of Endymion knew that the red-haired girl had been traumatised by what had happened during the War, more so than the rest. Her decision to abandon the name she had been born with was her way of keeping her sanity. As Fllay, she was the spoilt, rich kid who knew (and cared) nothing of the world and whose hunger to avenge her father had led the one person who loved her to his death and sent thousands of souls across the Styx before their time. It was by her hand that Azrael had received the technology that would allow the EA to counter the N-Jammer Cancellers that had rendered its nuclear arsenal useless in the days after the Junius-7 Massacre.

As Angel, she would be one of those who would defend the world Kira had left behind. It was both her penance and her _raison d'être_. Her rescue of Lacus had been one of the key reasons why she had been chosen to pilot the one of the EA's Animus Gundams and given the authority to work independently of the EA's chain of command if need be. She could make a difference in a way that mattered. And, if rumors were anything to go by, the newly-born Phoenix of the Earth Alliance was said to be Mwu's equal.

And the thought of it cheered him.

**(O)**

_**Neo-Stratos military port**__**,**__** EA-designated docks**_

Raine Mikamura looked down at her palm-top, cursing the logistics division for dragging its weight. She had requested the supplies days ago, and had sent the appropriate authorization codes to facilitate the process. And now they're telling her that it would take several more days to approve the transfer? With Operation Frostcrown due to begin within 36 hours, the next best option was to get the supplies they needed from the Eurasian-controlled star fortress, the _Tuatha De Danaan._ And doing that would no doubt be problematic in more ways than one; the Eurasians have yet to forgive or forget their Atlantic Federation counterparts for orchestrating the Alaskan massacre.

"I suppose there's no choice, then," Raine sighed, and opened an application on her palm-top, "Commander Badgiruel isn't going to like this…"

Raine had yet to see the regal commander of the _Shield of Destiny_ angry, but the way some of the ship's crew behaved whenever the latter was annoyed was a clear indication to the Chief Technician that ground zero of a nuclear explosion would be considerably safer. Raine knew about the Badgiruel family. They were old, period. Their ancestors had seen the days of the Solar Empire, and there have been many attempts by the foolish to take the prized relics that rested in their vaults. Raine had seen one such relic in Commander Badgiruel's room. Excalibur – Sword of Kings, the symbol of the Badgiruel family, and given unto the individual who would become its next family head. It was a beautiful, deadly thing, forged by the hands of a master artisan. The gleaming blade had seen centuries of war and a mythic era many could only dream of.

'_It's been a while since I watched Valkyrie's Cry,'_ the Chief Technician thought as she typed out a letter to the _Shield of Destiny_'s commander, _'But before that, I'd better do my job_…_'_ and her stomach growled, _'And get a bite along the way. Those sandwiches weren't filling…'_

She turned a corner, where several soldiers wearing the uniforms of Neo-Stratos's colonial marines manned a checkpoint together with EA soldiers. Raine raised her pass, and an EA marine lieutenant nodded his approval before stepping aside to let her pass. Security had been tightened within the military port, especially with Operation Frostcrown about to begin. Raine would put good money on the fact that the extremists had already infiltrated the colony. With so many important people there and a potent enemy about to be unleashed upon them, it would be foolish if they chose not to take action.

As she turned a corner, she found herself looking at a small group of men and women wearing Cerberus uniforms emerging from the nearby mess hall. Raine's eyebrows hit her hairline. What in all that was holy was the EA's anti-terrorist outfit doing here? She pushed herself out of the way, allowing them to float by, catching snippets of their conversation.

"What do you think got Saki so worked up?" one woman asked.

"Don't ask me, man. You know what she is like around her older sister. Jeez, I've heard about sibling rivalry, but this just takes the cake. I hope the commander and Captain Tatsuya can keep them under control, or we'll have a ship full of dead people before the mission ends. Why, for the love of God, did Command send the Banshee Tactical Assault team instead of some other team for this shit? They're likely to kill us as the enemy," her colleague, a man in his early twenties, replied.

"Stop whining, Locks," a big man replied, "This is a job that needs the meanest and the best Cerberus has to offer. And the Banshees will give them terrorists a nightmare they won't be forgetting in a hurry."

"Could Lieutenant Saki and Captain Aya be fighting over a man?" the smallest of the group, a girl barely out of University, suggested to her compatriots, "I saw hand-drawn pictures in Lieutenant Saki's and Captain Aya's room. They're of the same person…"

The startled exclamations could be heard three corridors down, causing even the nearby soldiers on duty to look up.

"What's he like, Lilia? Tell us!" one of the smaller girl's female companions begged, "He must be dreamy!"

Lilia smiled, her eyes misty, "He is."

The younger girls in the group squealed, while their older colleagues shook their heads in amusement.

"Do you think we could use it against them?" the one called Locks asked.

"Do you want to entertain a woman next time you're on shore leave?" the big Cerberus officer replied. Locks shut up immediately. Raine grinned inwardly as she watched the small group leave, before sighing. A boyfriend, huh…? It's been ages since she even went out on a date. Her profession had made it difficult to have a stable relationship. Prior to her reassignment to the Avenger Phoenix and its pilot, Raine had found herself transferred from one base to another, helping the engineering departments of each improve the MS's OS. The longest she had stayed in any one place was six months. Six months was barely enough time to make it halfway to first base.

And besides, most of the men she met simply fell short of what she wanted in a potential mate. The Chief Technician ran a hand through her auburn hair. How did Fllay do it? How did she manage to have a relationship while in the midst of a war? Raine floated into the mess hall and requested a lunch set from the canteen lady, who returned to her five minutes later with her order. It took her just as long to get to the _Shield of Destiny_, where the base's logistics crew were loading supplies onto the ship via the hangar-bay doors.

The OC of the _Shield of Destiny_'s marines, Cpt. Robert Semelier, and its First Officer, Kimsey Tauros, spotted her. The latter nodded in greeting as the Chief Technician for the Avenger Phoenix floated towards them, "Raine. Did Colonel Derek approve your requests?"

Raine shook her head, "I'm afraid not, Captain Tauros. Colonel Derek is determined to be…difficult, and we simply do not have the time to wait for Washington to approve my requests. I have informed Commander Badgiruel that our next best option is to get the supplies we need at the _Tuatha De Danaan._ At least, by doing that, we will not be behind schedule."

"Are the supplies you brought with you when you first boarded the _Shield_ not enough, Raine? _Tuatha De Danaan_ is a Eurasian fortress. I would like to avoid dealing with those sanctimonious pigs if I could," Tauros rubbed her temple, "I will speak with Colonel Derek after this. Oh, and Raine…Fllay has been in the Avenger Phoenix for quite some time now. She seemed quite agitated."

'_Agitated…?'_ "Don't worry about it, Captain. I'll handle her," Raine replied as she launched herself into the _Shield's_ hangar bay. She found the lovely, red-haired pilot sitting inside the Avenger Phoenix's cockpit, her eyes closed and chest rising and falling with each breath she took. Angel's dark red hair floated in the zero-gravity like a halo, making her as lovely as her name. She was, Raine noted, wearing lipstick the same shade as her hair and – if her nose was not deceiving her – perfume.

As Raine leaned closer to wake her slumbering friend, the eyes of the latter suddenly snapped open. The Chief Technician soon found herself staring not into the familiar grey eyes of Angel Allster, but the silver eyes of a monster that was a heartbeat away from killing her. Fear overwhelmed reason, and Raine threw herself back, desperate to escape this beast whose lair she had entered unknowingly. She did not get far. Angel's hand shot out, catching hold of her friend's throat in a vice-like grip that cut the oxygen flow to her brain almost instantaneously.

"Fllay…!" Raine gasped, trying to break the impossibly strong grip the red-haired pilot had her in, "Fllay! It's me, Raine! What's wrong? Fllay…!"

It was only then that the red-haired pilot regained her senses, and realized what she was doing to her friend. She snatched her hand back as if burned, a look of horror and contrition on her face. It took the mortified girl some time to regain her composure, and the better part of five minutes before she could finally speak, "I…I'm sorry, Raine. I…I had a bad dream…"

"It must have been some dream to have you react the way you did," Raine scowled, rubbing her neck, wincing as her hand ran over the cuts caused by Angel's nails, "What the hell have you been drinking? First Officer Tauros said you were agitated…but this takes the cake! You almost killed me!"

Angel took Raine's wrath without flinching, "Other than half the bottle of whisky you gave me for my 17th birthday, nothing." (11)

Raine's tirade and thought processes came to a shrieking halt. The bottle of whisky the auburn-haired Chief Technician had given her friend for her birthday some months back was powerful (and expensive) stuff. Even she could not take several shots of the stuff without going red in the face and feeling that her legs had turned to jelly. Coordinators could only take eight shots before they went under the table. And Fllay had taken **half** the bottle and was still conscious? Raine's admiration of Angel went up several notches, even as one part of her told her that something was very wrong. The red-haired pilot of the Avenger Phoenix rarely drank – and when she did, it was because her memories of the Bloody Valentine War became too much to take. No, this was something else. Raine could smell the fear and pain emanating from the younger girl.

"Shall we go to the mess hall for some hot chocolate? You look like you could use something to calm your nerves," Raine said as she moved aside to let her friend emerge from her MS, "And maybe you can tell me what was it about that dream that caused you to almost kill me."

It would be the first time Raine had seen Angel so grateful.

**(O)**

_**Somewhere in the Solar System…**_

On a field of blue roses, an ashen armored figure strode through the fields, his cloak fluttering in the cold breeze. The man's face was covered by a heavy hood, and the mask he usually wore held in one hand, allowing the icy touch of the wind to caress his face. The man was not alone. Standing several feet away, so as to allow him his privacy, were two women. Beautiful and deadly, these two women were his living weapons, created by his masters to serve him. One had a flowing white hair, and was clad in a bodysuit, her ornate, epistle-inscribed gauntlets an arsenal capable of unleashing a storm of destruction. The other had crimson hair and was clad in armor reminiscent of the Greek _hoplites_ of old. Unlike her counterpart, she was armed only with a force-shield and a force-lance that terminated on either end in an array of fearsome blades. But the lethal, crackling blades of her weapon were nothing compared to those she could create from her own body.

He sensed someone approaching and turned towards the distant archway that led to the garden. A woman strode into the open, clad in majestic robes of crimson and gold beneath a breastplate of silver and brass. Long crimson locks were bound in a thick braid, and framed a face that was both elegant and imperious. The Ashen King's brother (or sister, as the case may be) Horseman did not come alone. A dozen golden-armored and fur-mantled Throne Guards waited patiently in the antechamber, their guardian spears gleaming in the faint light that illuminated the grounds.

"Brother," the woman spoke as she strode towards him, "I knew I would find you here. The Eye of Justice has been asking for you. She says that it is time to move on to the next phase of the plan. Our pawns in the Earth Sphere are paving the way for our coming. By tomorrow or the day after, they will move to kill those whom they see as obstacles to their goals. It is a pity, really. There are several among their intended targets that I particularly admire."

"You are talking about Amanda Campbell's (12) daughter, aren't you? The one she left behind in the Earth Sphere with her husband?" the Ashen King turned to face his sibling.

"Yes. It is a pity that she has to die. I like her; she would have made a better candidate for the throne Rau le Creuset left behind. I trust her more than the man our master has elected to take his place. With her amongst the Ten, our goal of uniting the Solar System under our or the Empire's banner would be accomplished all the sooner."

"And what is it about our master's choice do you disapprove of?" the Ashen King asked.

The Scarlet Queen turned her gaze towards the distant blue-and-white orb that had vanquished her masters over a thousand years ago, sensing that the peace purchased at the cost of so many lives was about to come to an end. She remembered the video clip of the Angel's final moments; it had been sent to her by one of her centurions who had fought in the closing hours of the Bloody Valentine War. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, stirring the hardened woman's heart as few things ever could. Kira Yamato's death was one worthy of a hero; his blood was the ink that had penned the words of the peace treaty signed between Earth and the PLANTs and his final breath the driving force behind those who had taken up arms to defend the world he had left behind.

That the boy's final moments was about to be rendered meaningless had led to the Scarlet Queen making her displeasure known to her masters many months prior. Her fury was further exacerbated by the fact that she had borne witness as to how low men could sink in order to achieve their ambitions and made volcanic by the fact that the Angel's biological father was willing to sell out his own son to unlock the gate that was sealed shut at the dawn of time. It did not help matters that the man the Scarlet Queen's masters had nominated to take the Serpent Throne was instrumental in the creation of the sick game that was now being played out.

"I do not trust him, brother," the crimson-haired woman spoke.

"Understandable. A man such as he is one to be wary of," the Ashen King replied, "But until our masters have reason to no longer trust him, we cannot raise our hand against him. Should he believe himself arrogant enough to challenge our masters, he will learn that there is no fortress mighty enough that can turn aside the judgment that awaits him."

The Scarlet Queen nodded.

"Do nothing, sister of mine. Do not give the Eye of Justice a reason to do to you what you intend to do to the Serpent."

"I understand. Oh, by the way, I have a report from your son…" and she took out a palm-top from under her cloak and activated it, "He has done what you asked of him. When the time comes, you will have a secure base from which to launch your attack on northern and central Asia. The only question on the table is who will reach Beijing first: you, General Qin, the Divine Dragon or the Shogunate Emperor. I put a considerable amount of money on you winning, so please try to avoid losing."

The Ashen King gave the Scarlet Queen a rare smile, "I will do my best."

_**To be continued…**_

**Author's annotations**

Somehow, I have a feeling that I rushed this one. The last two of three sections were fired on full-auto (thus, spraying bullet EVERYWHERE), and feels somewhat disjointed (to me, at least). We will have a bumper crop of OC profiles in this chapter. Those that I made brief mention in the previous chapter, but have not included will be introduced much later as the story progresses. They will have a part to play in the overall story.

In the next chapter, we will turn our focus back on Cross and his people, and we will see Fllay's dream sequence. We will also see what Griever and Ko Shiatar have been up to, and what their extremist allies have in store for the Memorial Ceremony. Also, if you have been reading closely, you would have seen a familiar character – or characters – from GSD make her (their) appearance(s).

_**Take note: I might be posting a Character Profile chapter soon. It will consolidate all the characters you and I have met over the 8 chapters of this story. Some of them, I will keep sub-rosa. Also, I will add a ship profile page along the way (and links – or references – so that you know what they look like, meow). **_

1) Sardaukar: The elite guard of the Fiery Sword Legion Master. The Sardaukar originally come from the Dune series, and were the royal guard of the Padishah Emperor.

2) College: I often referred to the school Kira and his friends studied at as the Institute of Technology. Official sources call the school they studied at as the Industrial College of Heliopolis. My mistake. I'll continue using the first (I.e.: Institute of Technology).

3) Okay, this is a blatant hyperlink to Traingham's wonderful Magister Negi Magi stories, 'Fang Vice Addiction' and 'By Your Enrapture'. Go visit him – they're listed on my favourites. You will **NOT** regret doing so.

4) This section is from a H-game I have, and whose characters are…nice, to say the least.

5) This section is a tribute to a manga I read. Its initials are BM, and its characters (at least two) are in the process of being recruited…

6) Thinking of bringing in a Supreme Commander unit (UEF or Cybran) in for Orb.

7) Okay, character profiles for the Cerberus's Banshee Team: Aya, Saki and Reiko.

8) Include the force composition for Operation Frostcrown. I need to keep a record for accuracy.

9) Original Character Alert: Prince Astellan Spiritblade and his retainers. And it seems that General Nikolai is in someone's pocket. And there will be MANY more. :) And, one more thing, there are **TWO** Astellans in this story. You'd meet the second one earlier than the first (I think…).

10) The Battle of the Solomon Sea is the place where Zeon in the UC-Gundam Era timeline finally collapsed. This event comes from Gundam 0073: Stardust Memories anime.

11) I don't know how many shots of whisky it takes to get someone drunk, so I made a guess.

12) Amanda Campbell: she has a part to play in this entire drama.

And, finally, leave a review (and visit my other stories) if you can. Thanks. Gimme' a pokemon power-up, meow.


	10. Interlude: Omen of Fire

**_Gundam SeeD Destiny – Lion of Heaven_**

**_Original Idea, drafts and concept by Kouryuo Sabre_**

**_Re-written by Spiritblade_**

_**Disclaimer:** _I think we can skip this. We know who Gundam SeeD and GSD series belong to, and who the original writer of this story is – and it will be most discourteous if I should ever forget.

Special thanks to Kouryuo Sabre for allowing me to write this story. And, dear readers, I have a boon to ask of you. Please do leave a review or two for both me and Kouryuo Sabre (visit his profile page – it has some excellent works). It will ensure that we don't fall asleep on duty.

Now, on with the story...

_**Do note:**_ this entire chapter is dedicated to Fllay (or rather, Angel) Allster and is in first person perspective. It is the dream sequence that one of my reviewers had asked for and is an excellent way to give you a taste of what is to come. And if I do it right, maybe I can have a larger customer base, meow? Also, as dreams go, I tried to be as ambiguous as I could without making it senseless.

**_(O)_**

**_Interlude_**

**_Fllay Allster – Omen of Fire_**

It has been a long time since I picked up the Bible. The last time I had done so was when I was ten years old, and my aunt was still alive. Her name had been Adel Allster. She had been my father's older sister, and had taught history in the Heliopolis Institute of Technology where Kira and I would study in years later. Her doctoral thesis of the Gear Crusades was required reading for historians interested in that era where fact and fiction intersect. The few documents and digital recordings from that period painted a picture of a Dark Age of humanity's own making. Piecing together what she could from the men and women who had lived in a reality splintered and slow in its healing, my aunt created a short, one-hour movie that would inspire the animation series _Guilty Gear: The Cross covered in Crimson. _

Now that I think about it, the main protagonist of the series, Ky Kiske, looks a lot like Kira. If we were to dye his hair blonde and dress him up in Holy Order robes, it would be difficult to tell one from the other. Professor Maria had once made the suggestion of dressing up Kira as the legendary Knight Caeli – one the girls in my class year jumped on eagerly – and using him as a mascot for our café during the annual festival. Professor Maria herself turned up, smirking like an elegant demoness, and asking the Student Council President for a cut of the profits. It would be the first time in all my life that I would see Sarah Hazelburke – a scheming, manipulative cat (for lack of a better description!) with a mischievous streak a mile wide – cornered and begging for mercy.

Not that Professor Maria had any. After navigating the Scylla of contract clauses and the Charybdis of negotiation, Professor Maria walked away with five hundred dollars' worth of vouchers from the shopping and restaurant chains owned by the Hazelburke family. Though Sarah may have believed herself getting the better end of the bargain, I am of the mind that Professor Maria was the one who won. The fact that Sarah tried to get Kira to sit down and have a drink with her – and failed, due to the hordes of girls hoping to get themselves a picture or/and a drink with Café Crosshearts' mascot – made Professor Maria's victory all the sweeter.

Sai and Miriallia had taken pictures, and had given me copies of that day. They are an undying reminder of a life I can no longer return to – that I have no wish to return to. Fllay Allster is dead; her spirit rests peacefully, knowing that Angel has the strength and the will to right the wrongs she committed. But, for the first time, my heart sways and the path I walk no longer clear. There are two reasons for this. The first is that I am seeing signs of Blue Cosmos resurgence in the EA Senate. In the last year alone, there were at least 30 seats in the Upper House taken by senators who were either members of Blue Cosmos or sympathised with their views. Should the forthcoming election in South Africa swing in the neo-conservatives favour, they would be in the position to replace President Copeland. I do not like the current president, but he is a damn sight better than anyone the neo-cons could put in his place. Said person could destroy everything the moderates have worked so hard to create.

The second reason that my conviction is swaying is because of my dreams. This sounds stupid, but this is the only place I can share what I have seen and not be judged insane. You, my journal, will be the only one to hear my thoughts. I am Angel Allster, the guardian phoenix that stands vigilant over the peace purchased by the blood of the one she loves. I am Fllay Allster, the girl who sentenced thousands to their deaths the day I gave a madman the sword of fire he needed to purge a race he hates from Creation. I am a girl – one amongst many – who loves and is loved by a man I can only hold in my dreams. And it is there I saw him, not as the schoolmate who had striven to win my heart (and who won the hearts of many others without even trying), but as an angel of wrath.

I saw in my dreams eleven angels around a vast circle of gold and silver. Eleven women clad in steel and silk, each clutching a weapon that was more than just an instrument of death; each was a symbol of office and of power bequeathed by an unknown King upon them to serve his appointed Champion. Of the eleven that stood in a circle, I could see clearly the faces of two. The first, clad in gleaming armour, and swathed in a fur-lined crimson mantle with the motif of a stylized cross and tiger's talons on her cloak, was Natarle. She held in one armoured fist her family sword, _Excalibur_, its polished surface gleaming in the firelight. I had seen the sword in Natarle's quarters enough times – and was shown it – to know that it was the real article. Anybody making a forgery of what was clearly a family heirloom is going to find a very, **very** angry House on their case.

The second was none other than Lacus Clyne. Like Natarle, she was clad in armour and robes, albeit one that complemented and revealed the lush curves of a strong body. I saw the tattoos of a serpent untwined around her body. This surprised me. Lacus was not like some of the women I met in boot-camp. She was everything a girl dreamt of becoming, and everything a woman was meant to be. Only Professor Maria came close. But this Lacus I saw had a hard edge about her, a fury that I saw but a handful of times and which frightened all that had seen it. And that anger took physical form in the beautiful spear Lacus held in one hand, the scrollwork that crept along its surface burning with a solar radiance.

Then…all eleven suddenly turned towards me and nodded in greeting.

"_It is time,"_ I heard someone speak behind me. I whipped around…and saw myself standing no less than ten feet away, the last member of the circle. Believe me, I found my thought processes (even in a dream) come to a screeching halt. I saw myself in silver armour, the phoenix motifs on it worked out in gold. A cloak of rich crimson and gold hung from my twin's shoulders and the silver sheen of her eyes (the silver sheen that Raine saw when I almost strangled her) was filled with terrible power. A beautifully-crafted halberd rested on her shoulder, and this she raised high in salute. The rest mirrored her actions.

"_Let the Earth Sphere burn, and let a new era rise from its ashes…"_

That was when things got freaky. I started having visions. Can you believe this? Visions – **IN** a dream! If Natarle even gets wind of this, she'll cart me off to the shrinks faster than the Phoenix can turn sideways. No, she won't do that – but I can bet half a year's salary that if anyone in Command (or any of their stooges) gets to even see what is in my journal (or even hear me talk crazy), it will happen. And the shrinks will declare me paranoid and schizophrenic in short order when they hear the details. And what I can remember, I will put on these pages.

The visions I saw in my dream were biblical, to say the least. I saw rivers of blood and cities ablaze. I saw fields burned black and littered with the bodies of thousands. I saw the Four Horseman ride through the Solar System, as their mandate to bring about the End of Days was given. I watched as the Crimson Horseman took peace from Creation. I watched as the Emerald Rider took hope from the hearts of those living, and the Black Rider sow the seeds of despair and corruption. I watched as the Ashen King drag Creation into the Pit, his hollow eyes devoid of mercy. I watched as ambition and pride sow the seeds of ruin, and set all ten worlds of the Solar System ablaze. I watched as loyalty take up arms against honour, when a red-haired Prince of the Empire clash against a silver-haired Princess whose country wished to be free of the chains imposed upon it by the Emperor known as Lord Conqueror. I saw conviction challenge courage, as the armies of the Earth Sphere, united for the first time since the turn of the century, prepare to defend themselves against an invader whose might and will surpassed their own.

I saw the mighty fall, the sword strike that felled a king and broke the back of his vassal lords delivered by a golden-armoured general who stood atop the burning ruins of the Kremlin, EA-Russia's seat of power, the crackling halberd in his hands wet with the blood of its leaders and the triumphant roar of his army the death knell of one of the Earth Alliance's strongest ally.

I saw Love blossom in the crucible of war, as a blue-haired girl marry her classmate, surrounded by their comrades who raised a toast to the skies. Natarle acted as their chaplain. I saw it in the face of a beautiful, golden-haired general who held a sword similar to that carried by Natarle's swear fealty to a young King whose face I could not see, but the sight of whom made my heart ache. I heard it in the voice of a silver-haired goddess who knelt for the first time in all the years she had lived before a young, Japanese priest who had won her heart not through the strength of his sword-arm but through his compassion.

I watched hatred bloom, as the Wolf King's white-haired wife betrayed her husband to a vengeful soul who had waited a thousand years to punish him for his betrayal, and in the blue eyes of a golden-haired commando who tore the Earth Alliance badge from her uniform and cast it into the flames of her comrades' funeral pyre. I saw it in the eyes of one of the last monarchs on Earth as his wife's political enemies take him and his children into custody. I saw it in the eyes of a young man who had lost his family during the Siege of Orb as he crossed swords with Freedom. I saw betrayal of a magnitude that would have made Shakespeare weak at the knees as men and women turned their backs on those they swore allegiance to and pave the way to their homelands' ruin.

I watched Evil stir in the hearts of those who believed themselves righteous. I saw it in the actions of an angelic King who, rather than crushing his enemy with his own two hands, used his adversary's two childhood friends – two girls who were nothing more than his slaves – to do it for him. I felt the palpable corruption well-hidden beneath the impenetrable shell of a demigod (demigoddess?) clad in white and crimson as his (her?) golden eyes awaited the time when his/her plans came to fruition. I saw it in the eyes of a zealous priest as he orders his servants to execute those who would not bend knee to his masters and the lustful look in the face of a Chaplain-General of the Empire as he surveyed the women his soldiers had brought before him. I saw it take physical form in the two flaming swords held by a honey-haired swordsman as he sought to bring Justice upon those who believed themselves above it.

I saw Vengeance raise her head high and unleash a chilling scream of rage, and saw Mercy's bloodied corpse lying on the charred fields of Paradise. I watched as the survivors of the betrayed Sword and Shield Legions take up arms against their former masters, determined to avenge their comrades who had perished in the War of Wrath.

I saw Justice put to the test, and Hope fight to resurrect that which the Horsemen had broken in their unstoppable charge. I saw Faith hold together and make stronger the chains that should have broken. I saw Fortitude in the actions of those who would rebuild a world shattered by war. I saw the wisdom of the ancients challenged by those who lived in the present and saw how Truth could part the gates to the world's end.

And I saw what awaited me at the end of that paradox spiral. I saw Kira, standing amidst the ruins of a city covered in snow and illuminated by the light of the moon and stars above. He was wearing the Holy Order robes he had worn during the school festival a lifetime ago, and was clutching a sword I had seen before but whose name I had forgotten. He was waiting for something…or someone, in the shadows of a Church I have never seen before and under the wings of Freedom. I walked towards him, but could never reach him. And that was when I saw him die. I saw his killer emerge from the shadows of Freedom, hooded and armoured, winged and terrible. I tried to shout a warning, but it was too late. Before Kira could react, his murderer – a woman – thrust a sword through his body, cleaving his heart in two and killing him instantly. Before he could fall, she tore the weapon out of his body and pulled him into her armoured embrace. It was only then did I see her face.

It was my own.

_- Diary of Angel Allster, September 25th Cosmic Era 73._

* * *

**_To be continued…_**

**_Author's Note: _**With this, I will turn my attention back to my 'Angel Halo, Edited'. It has been over a year since I touched my second magnum opus. Do not worry. I'll be back. Also, give me a review. Tell me if this interlude…fits, for lack of a better word, with the previous chapters as a whole and if you feel something ominous. I wrote this overnight, so I expect it to be somewhat messy – I'll get a second draft up soon, I promise.


	11. Chapter 9

**_Gundam SeeD Destiny – Lion of Heaven_**

**_Original Idea, drafts and concepts by Kouryuo Sabre_**

**_Re-written by Spiritblade_**

**_Disclaimer: _**I think we can skip this. We know who Gundam SeeD and GSD series belong to, and who the original writer of this story is – and it will be most discourteous if I should ever forget. Special thanks to Kouryuo Sabre for allowing me to write this story. And, dear readers, I have a favour to ask of you. Please do leave a review or two for both me and Kouryuo Sabre (visit his profile page – it has some excellent works). It will ensure that we don't fall asleep on duty.

On this chapter, we will turn our attention (briefly?) to Cagalli and Athrun as well as some of my OCs (some of whom will play a major role in the war to come).

**(O)**

_The first thing he saw and felt when he opened his eyes was the fire that warmed and illuminated the stygian interiors of a once-glorious cathedral. His body ached terribly, reminding him of how severe his wounds had been and how determined his former masters were in their quest to kill him. Had Morrigan not broken off combat with the angel that guarded the Divine Wolf's eldest scion, they would have succeeded. There were few things in the galaxy that could withstand the power of a battleship's – or in this case, a squadron of battleships' – lance arrays. The void shields that protected planets, orbital fortresses and the ships of humanity's star-spanning Empires was one of them. The Aegis force shields employed by Dragoons were another. It amused him that humanity's scientists had called them void shields in order to avoid explaining the insanely complex way in which they worked. _

_Complex – now that was a word which summed up his current predicament. One minute, he had been the hero of the Great Crusade to topple an insane Empress who had once been his friend and who had waited a decade for his return. The next, he was a traitor, accused of a multitude of crimes that would have made the Creator blanch. The man's lips curved in a sardonic grin as his eyes alighted on the scene of the Archangel Michael – the true Archangel rather than his mortal counterpart who was given both the Heavenly General's name and title – vanquishing Satan. He had been compared to the Adversary many times before. Such was his power that even those he fought alongside feared him as much as they did their enemy. For when he was unleashed unto the battlefield, the Four Horsemen rode hard on his heels. Death and destruction awaited those that stood in his way._

_"Never…! Too many lives have been lost for the sake of defeating you. Even if we are to subject this world to a second purging - the first being wrought by your hands, murderer - then so be it! But know this! By God and all that is Holy, we shall defeat you, Satan!"_

_He clenched his fist as the last words of the eldest son of the Divine Wolf thundered in his ears. Gyran had followed him loyally in the years before the Great Crusade. When the command came to topple the ruler of the Imperial Dominion was given, the heir-apparent to the Lion Throne had been fighting on the other side of the galaxy against the Orks. He arrived late only to find that the person he admired next to his father had committed atrocities the likes of which would drive lesser men mad. That Gyran had not bothered to ask why he had done them told the fallen, golden-haired general that his enemies had done their work well. _

_And, of course, nothing he said would change the fact that he had murdered millions – millions who were already doomed. The man pushed himself up, the thick, fur-lined cloak that had protected him from the cold sliding off his body, and called out for the emerald-haired angel who had been his aide, advisor and guardian. There was no reply. Where had she gone? He turned this way and that, his eyes easily piercing the darkness as if it were lit. The sound of a Rigel winter owl's haunting call caused him to turn around and behold a face whose radiant beauty made him freeze, his talons retracting and his bloodthirst dissipating like the morning mist. _

_Tears spilt from his eyes, becoming ice long before they hit the cold marble floors of the Cathedral of Seraphs. The woman's voice echoed not in his ears, but in his soul, a promise that there would always, always be a place where a monster like him could find peace. He remembered her hovering over him, her lips pulled into a playful grin and her emerald eyes afire with love and lust. He remembered how the sun shining through the leaves of the trees that had shrouded one of the most sacred places in Suldanesselar warm her nude flesh and the way it set her golden hair aflame. _

'I will always be with you, my love.'

_And he whispered the name of the stone goddess who smiled down at him in a voice that was filled with bitter regret._

"_Ellesime…"_

_X X_

_Morrigan's eyes widened as she took in the wingly ship that materialized out of the warp, its sleek prow festooned with the fearsome pulsar lance and particle cannon arrays that had made the Wingly star-fleets one of the most feared in the galaxy. Crimson-veined solar sails arched like wings from the ship's rear end, the energy absorption arrays pulsing with the energy it had gathered on its journey from the shipyards of Suldanesselar into the heartlands of one of humanity's mightiest demesnes. _

"_A Void Stalker…?" the emerald-haired Dragoon whispered, recognizing the ship before her as the Archangel Duchy's chief capital vessel. _

"_Indeed," Freya replied, "but not just any Void Stalker. This one was commissioned by my Mistress long before she disappeared. It was built in secrecy and only a handful of people know of its existence. And the reason is because of that…" and the russet-haired War Goddess pointed at the gun mounted on the Void Stalker's prow. Morrigan's inbuilt sensors took the schematics of the gun mounted on the prow, matching it to her databases and re-aligning all that she knew with what she was seeing. It did not take her long to understand what it was she was looking at._

"_It cannot be! That's the…!"_

"_It is. The weapon that ended the Kin-slayer War over eight thousand years ago," Freya finished, "My mistress's ancestor knew that a time would come when its power would be need once more and made a duplicate copy of its construction templates before the Phoenix King of that era consigned it to oblivion. Though not as powerful as the original, it is capable of destroying entire starforts and _beta_-class moons with little trouble. My mistress has also told me to convey you and your master this message, sister: You have lost this battle, but the war has only just begun."_

_Morrigan swung the Spear of Khaine over her shoulder and looked at planet behind her, "That is for my master to decide, Freya. Whether he chooses to continue this war or go into exile is his choice. I will follow him no matter which path he chooses to tread. But…somehow, after all that has happened, I don't see him choosing the second option. By the way…" and she turned her gaze at the ship, "Does that have a name?"_

"_Indeed it does," a voice spoke as a holographic screen materialized scant inches from Morrigan's face, revealing a wingly woman whose scarred features bespoke of decades spent on the battlefield. She wore a suit of emerald-green battle-armour and a crimson, gold-threaded, cloak. The gold-inlaid torque bore the mark of the missing Prophetess-Queen's honour guard._

"_Who are you?"_

_The woman nodded in greeting, "My name is Astameer La'felle, Lady Morrigan. I am one of the captains of Her Majesty's White Lion bodyguard detachments and am the commanding officer of the . I have with me a hundred of my kin as well as researchers and scientists who have sworn to carry out Her Majesty's last command."_

"_You and yours will never return home, Astameer. Are you sure?"_

"_We are."_

_Morrigan met the cyan orbs of the White Lion captain, "Then be ready, Captain Astameer. For what comes is nothing less than an Apocalypse."_

_**Chapter 9**_

_**The Lioness of Orb/ Swords of the King/ Knives in the Dark**_

_**Dreams and Memories – 5 / Written in the Wind and Stars – 2**_

_**Blood in the Wind**_

_**Main highway en route to TITAN Research and Construction Facility, PLANT Aurelius**_

Gilbert Dullindal poured himself a glass of whisky and took the chance to study Orb's young Lioness from the corner of his eye. He remembered the way his heart had lurched when Cagalli Zala had emerged from the docks with her bodyguard in tow. It had taken all of his considerable willpower to smile and extend a hand in greeting to the young daughter – or more accurately, step-daughter – of Lord Uzumi Nara Attha. Leonine, golden eyes, bright as the sun, met his gaze with an honesty he found both refreshing and intimidating. He knew that any attempt to play the field with the golden-haired Queen would end badly. He glanced at the woman sitting next to the Lioness. Lean and athletic, her silver hair a contrast to her dark skin, Valencia de Mata was a woman whose skills would make her the equal of any in the Bloodhawks. Dullindal knew that Valencia was keeping an eye on him, despite the fact her eyes were closed and her posture was one of utter relaxation. And in the close confines of the limousine, the short sword that rested across the woman's lap would be far more effective than the pistol Dullindal had stored away in the secret compartment next to him.

His bodyguards had been nervous when they realized that their leader would be within arm's reach of an armed individual, and that should anything happen to him, they would have Hell to pay. Dullindal had calmed them down by saying that he would take personal responsibility should anything happen to him. After all, he added, what were the chances that the Lioness of Orb would do something that would put her country in danger? The bloody days of the Siege of Orb were still fresh on the minds of its people. No, if the Lioness wanted him dead, she would have killed him the moment she stepped off her ship. The Queen of Orb never believed in half-measures when it came to dealing with people who crossed her.

Dullindal smiled over the rim of his glass. She would make a good ally in the coming days, if he could convince both her and her husband that what he was trying to accomplish was a goal no less noble than Lacus Clyne's. And should Orb join him, it was only a matter of time before the SENTINELs and the Clyne faction did the same. Dullindal was no fool; he knew that he could not accomplish his dream without help. Ever since he took power over a year ago, he had recruited and raised those he knew (and trusted) to positions of power. He had extended an olive branch to the EA and a hand to those countries in the Earth Sphere whose support would prove helpful in the fulfilment of his dream. On that matter, he wondered how negotiations with the Equatorial Union were going. Had Victoria managed to convince its wily Prime Minister of the benefits of accepting the free trade agreement? If he agreed, the Equatorial Union would get exclusive trading rights with the colonies on the Earth-Venusian border which had recently joined the PLANTs. If not…well, there would be others who would be more than glad to take up the offer, Orb being one of them.

The PLANT Chairman sipped his drink; maybe he should HAVE given the offer to Orb. It would have saved him a good deal of time and trouble further down the road, but the move that he made could not be withdrawn. He would have to live with it. There would be other chances to bring Orb to his side. And besides, the temptation to put a good one over the Equatorial Union's leader was one Dullindal could not resist. The dark-haired Chairman grinned inwardly; he could almost see the scowl on the face of the Equatorial Union's head of state. He had been outplayed, and he knew it. It was one of the few times in his seven decades of life that Jonathan Lee Hsien Tsang, scion of the ancient Lee dynasty (1), had been forced to concede the field. His political rivals were all snickering, no doubt, relishing the fact that the one man who could cheat the Devil had finally met his match.

'_But the White Queen had defeated me long before I was made King,'_ Dullindal poured himself another shot as the limousine drove past a floating holo-screen playing a music video of said Queen whose actions had brought the Earth Sphere back from the brink of destruction¸ _'But the price you paid for victory was high, was it not, Lacus Clyne?'_

He remembered how the young pilot of Freedom had perished and by whose hand he had been laid low. Murata Azrael, Director of one of the EA's largest suppliers of arms and munitions, the Atlantic National Defence Conglomerate (or ANDC), and the chief architects of the Bloody Valentine War, was a driven, hate-filled war-monger who viewed the existence of the Coordinators as a virus that needed to be expunged in order to preserve the purity of the human race. The thought made Dullindal scoff. Trust the Blue Cosmos to utilize scripture in the same fashion as their adversaries did Darwinist theories to justify their respective crusades. And like the hydra of old, defeating the anti-Coordinator groups – or the anti-Natural factions, for that matter – would not be a task easily accomplished. They had been around for twice as long as Dullindal had been alive, and had sunk their claws deep into the fabric of society. Not even the Martian Dominions and the stygian Kingdoms of Pluto was free of their hateful demagoguery.

But do it he must. The world the dark-haired Chairman envisioned was one where the divisions that had caused humanity to turn its guns on one another would be a distant memory. The Earth Sphere – no, the Solar System – would be united once more. Coordinator and Natural would have a future free of war, and the first steps to the restoration of the Solar Empire would be taken.

He would do in years what Lacus Clyne would not be able to do in two lifetimes.

It was a pity that Kira Yamato would not be here to bear witness to the new age that would be born from his blood. His expression became pensive, as the voice of his friend who had passed on rose from the depths of his memory: _'Do not be so swift as to judge his children, Dullindal. They are surprisingly wiser and more resilient than I gave them credit for. And both are more like their mother than their father, which I suppose is a good thing. But they cannot stop what is to come. I will try one last time to bring Ulen Hibiki's son over to our side. I will not succeed.'_

'_Then why even try…?'_ he had asked.

'_Because this is the way it has to be. You cannot be King, Dullindal. That throne is not meant for you. Should you reach too far, then _he _will come for you. And no power above or below Heaven can stop him.'_

Dullindal closed his eyes. Part of Rau's warning had been the same words that the wife of Ulen Hibiki, Via Eltnam Atlasia, had spoken to him when they last saw each other. To look upon the face of Kira Yamato was to see that gentle, intelligent woman for whom science was an instrument and whose dreams and ambitions gave that cold art warmth and life. He was one of the few women in his life he could actually admire and love.

"Chairman Dullindal?" the voice of the Lioness of Orb broke the Dullindal out of his memories.

"I'm sorry, Representative Zala," the Chairman of PLANT replied, "I was thinking about something. What is it?"

"It's regarding Operation Frostcrown and the _Animus_-class Gundams. There were some things my country's recent dealings with the EA brought to light. Do you mind?"

"Ask away, princess."

**(O)**

_**PLANT Aurelius military star-port, Café Medan, at that very moment**_

Lunamaria Hawke leaned back in her chair as she studied the program algorithms on the lap-top before her and looked at the small notebook that outlined the architecture of the OS she and her younger sister had promised their friend they would do in exchange for him doing some shopping for the two of them. She grinned inwardly, remembering the look of mortification on the face of her fellow Bloodhawk when he realized that some of the purchases he was required to make involved him going into a lingerie store. There was no way Shinn Asuka could refuse without Lunamaria revealing to their fellow squadron members just why she was not taking what may be their last chance at shore leave. And if their squadron commander got wind of it, he would skin the young man alive. Shinn knew it, and she knew it. This, Lunamaria had told him, was the price of his slacking off. Had he taken the time to finish and fine-tune the Impulse's OS, he would not have to risk a fate worse than death.

Shinn promptly threw in the towel. Better to risk the amused smirks of the women working – and shopping – in the lingerie store than see one on his commander's face. The Devil would have blanched on seeing it on the latter's face; it promised torments worse than any the imps of the underworld could mete out. Lunamaria leaned back in the padded chair and stretched. Getting Shinn to give way was a victory well worth celebrating, which was why the girl was hanging out at Café Medan with the best cup of mocha the shop could offer. There was also another reason why Lunamaria had agreed to help Shinn fine-tune his MS's OS: it would give her the excuse to remain within the precincts of the military port and give her time alone.

Time both she and her younger sister, Meyrin, needed especially after the nightmares the two of them had had. What Meyrin had seen, Lunamaria did not know. But whatever it was, it had left the former shaking for the better part of an hour. She herself had not been much better. Lunamaria felt so foolish. She was no longer a child. She had fought in the closing days of the Bloody Valentine War and had been drafted as part of the Homeland Defence squadrons. She had worn the green coat of ZAFT's regulars rather than the red coat of its elite back then, and had only won the right to wear the latter after her actions during the Battle of the Solomon Sea were made known to her superiors. The fact that she had lasted longer than her peers when she faced the White Angel in combat probably did much to validate their decision (2).

The female Bloodhawk shivered as her mind replayed that one moment when she faced an enemy she could not defeat. More than the memory of the destruction of Boaz being reduced to atoms by the EA's nuclear bombs, more than the memory of the entirety of the Solomon Sea becoming a savage battleground illuminated by the fierce light of the GENESIS gun, it was the image of the White Angel bearing down on both her and her comrades, radiant and glorious, which Lunamaria would remember for the rest of her life. In one pass, she and her comrades in the 121st Homeland Defence squadron – which consisted of a dozen GINNs – had been cut down. She remembered how the squadron channel had erupted in a cacophony of strangled shrieks and curses when her compatriots found their GINNs bereft of limb and targeting array. Her squadron commander had said, in a shaky voice, that whoever it was that was piloting the Freedom, he or she could not possibly be human. No pilot – Natural or Coordinator – could move and fight the way the Freedom had. Not even the Crimson Knight who practically tore through the EA and ZAFT fleets like a hot wind came close to matching his brother.

'_The Solomon Sea was the new Megiddo and Lacus Clyne's Golgotha.'_

The parallels between the mythical final battleground where the Creator and His outcast son settled their feud and the place where Christ was crucified over ten thousand years ago were staggering. But where the conclusion of the former ended with the Creator claiming victory and banishing His treacherous son once and for all to the underworld, and the second ended up with the Son of God being resurrected to show that Death could be conquered, the lovely songstress of PLANT was left with the burden of ensuring that the Earth Sphere would not suffer a second Bloody Valentine War and the guilt of watching the White Angel die.

'_Can we make the burden she bears lighter? I doubt so. You can tell, Lunamaria, that she blames herself for so many things. Sooner or later, she will break.'_

Lunamaria remembered the white star that had been born in the heart of the battlefield, remembered screaming in rage when she realized that the EA had unleashed another one of their nuclear missiles, and remembered the anguished scream that brought the Red Horseman's unstoppable charge to a screeching halt. Everyone knew from whom the scream had originated from, for they had heard that same voice raised in song and plea for the very thing Natural and Coordinator had cast aside without second thought.

'_Humanity has always taken peace for granted. That is why the history of our race is written in blood. The War of Wrath, the four Solar Wars and the Bloody Valentine War will be but footnotes in the ledger of our countless transgressions.' _

She remembered the pilots of the Clyne faction turn and charge the black and crimson twin of the _Archangel_, tearing it asunder under the weight of gunfire and beam sabre before the main guns of the three ships delivered the coup de grace. That had been a display of sheer, _vicious_ fury that few had forgotten. It had not been an attack; it had been an execution. And when Lunamaria learnt later who it was that the Clyne faction had rained hell down on, she (like many others) agreed that Murata Azrael of the Blue Cosmos anti-Coordinator extremist group got off lightly. But death had elevated the White Angel and the Crimson Knight (who had eluded death due to the intercession of his wife, the Lioness of Orb) to near-mythical status. By the time the First Memorial Ceremony was held above the ruins of Junius-7, there were few in the Earth Sphere who did not know the names of the two Angels whose fiery swords had illuminated and cleared the path to a new era. The few books that had been published about the Bloody Valentine War painted a bloody tapestry that reminded many of the War of Wrath.

'_If life is a cycle, it is not a stretch of the imagination – or logic, for that matter – to say that human history is the same. We will make the same mistakes for the same reasons our predecessors did, all because we did have not the wisdom or foresight to see – or care about – the consequences that would come of our actions. When our distant ancestor partook of the Apple of Knowledge granted to him by one of his lovers, he was granted a vision of how his children would die. For defying the command of the Creator, the latter cursed the sons and daughters of the First Man to fall to the blades of the Four Horsemen. And all they could do, all they could swear, when the First Man was finally executed by the Creator…was to do their duty with justice.'_

Lunamaria reached for her cup of mocha, remembering the story the Supreme Commander of the Constellation Teams had told her during the state ceremony when she had been made a Bloodhawk Elite. She remembered the small crowd that had gathered around the man, enjoying for a brief moment the caress of eternity and tragedy. One of the journalists present at the function had recorded the Constellation Lord's (as some in ZAFT called the Constellation Team's leader behind his back) stories and had them printed on the papers the following day. It had left the man embarrassed and a public hungry for more. The red-haired girl grinned; she remembered gossip about how ZAFT's Finance Branch head had suggested that they use the Constellation Lord as a source of revenue. It would, the former had added, help settle the numerous debts his subordinates had saddled the PLANTs' armed forces with due to their penchant for leaving far too much collateral damage (thankfully, one of which involved innocent lives) in their skirmishes. Chairman Dullindal himself had said, jokingly, that the Constellation Teams were the most expensive military outfit in all of ZAFT – but that without them, the PLANTs would have defenceless in the months after the Bloody Valentine War ended.

The red-haired girl reached for her cup of mocha and turned her attention to the café's flat-screen television, which was broadcasting from PLANT Neo-Stratos's massive Princess Athena indoor stadium, where the Cherry Blossom Princess, Mana Shiranui, was performing. Every head within the Café Medan turned to the screen, as the celebrity strode onto the stage under the glare of a thousand lights and the cheers of a crowd a hundred times that number. Dressed in a customized crimson and white kimono decorated with sakura petals over a black bodysuit which complemented her lush figure, and holding a traditional Japanese umbrella (known as a _wagasa)_ over her shoulder, she blew a playful kiss to the wildly cheering crowd.

"_Hey everyone, how are you doing…?"_

A thunderous cry of affirmation answered the Cherry Blossom Princess's greeting.

"_Great! I know you guys and girls are here for a show – and you'll get one! But first, I want to dedicate the first dance of the evening to a special someone!"_

A good many men – and no few girls – in the crowd, Lunamaria could see, begged the dancer to dedicate said dance to them. And who could blame them? It was the dream of a devoted fan to be part of their idol's inner circle or, in the case of the guys, to be his or her lover or mate. The Cherry Blossom Princess had hundreds of thousands of fans. It was safe to say that, next to Lacus Clyne, she was one of the few celebrities in the Earth Sphere who had a following second only to that of the White Princess. But, that aside, who was Mana Shiranui's special someone? That was the question that would be discussed over the tabloids for the next few weeks.

The Cherry Blossom Princess raised her hand, a signal to her stage crew to start the music, before she knelt and swung the _wagasa_ in front of her.

"_I dedicate this dance to the White Angel."_

**(O)**

**_PLANT Neo-Stratos, Luna Throne Restaurant, a block from the Princess Athena Indoor Stadium_**

The white-haired woman sitting on the private dining area of the high-class Luna Throne restaurant smiled when she heard the Cherry Blossom Princess's declaration and chuckled when the opening scores of the song the latter was about to dance to was played. She turned her attention to the man sitting across the table, the candlelight highlighting the man's placid features, which sported a rare smile. Though blind, the woman knew that her companion was capable of seeing her as she truly was. It was the gift of a clan believed to have been wiped out over a thousand years ago, and who have been waiting for just as long to take revenge on those who had betrayed them. But unlike his kin, the man refused to take up the sword, knowing that it was pointless. Those who had wronged them had died long ago.

But not all of them, the woman added inwardly. The Seven and Twenty who had sown the seeds of their ruin by turning their blades on their most loyal servants had survived the passing of the centuries, no doubt to act as a shield for the one who had engineered the sick tragedy that was about to unfold. But, strong as they were, nothing in Creation could turn aside the Fiery Lord's blade when it and its wielder knew the name of the one who wronged them. The woman raised her wineglass in the man's direction, "Fate is truly a frightening thing isn't it, Reverend Malchio? How it, despite our best efforts, brings us down the road we were meant to tread? And how it seeks out those whose lives are tied to the flow of the river that is history?"

The blind priest turned his sightless gaze on the woman, trying to maintain his composure in the face of one who was old when the stars and suns of the galaxy were young. How did his uncle stand in the presence of such a being and not shiver? The fierce, titanic aura surpassed what he had felt when he was brought, years ago in the days of his youth, to the throne room of the Millennium Castle, where his clan's distant ancestor slept in the embrace of the White Princess, was nothing compared to this!

"Why have you summoned me, Lady…?"

"You can call me Lucifera, Malchio Tohno." the woman's green eyes flashed mischievously, "Your uncle gave me that name over a hundred years ago when I approached him for aid. I do apologize for requesting your presence here on such short notice, but I simply needed to have a word with you without arousing…the suspicions of my enemy's servants."

"And who are these enemies, Lady Lucifera?"

"Oh, you know who I'm talking about, Tohno. They're the reason you changed your family name from Tohno to Essenheim and tampered with your DNA helix so as to ensure that the Inquisition or their lackeys will never find you. They are the reason you put yourself in a position which allowed you to call upon the resources of a country should you require it. It was a smart move, by the way, to convince the former PLANT Chairman Siegel Clyne to appoint you Special Advisor to the Supreme Council. And it was wise of you to resign from your position when Lacus Clyne appointed Gilbert Dullindal to Chairman of the PLANTs."

The priest gripped his cane tightly and let out a long breath, "Is this about him, Lucifera?"

"Yes," the white-haired woman played with the ruby pendant resting between her breasts, "it is. And the fact that you know means that your uncle knows as well. I will cut to the chase then, Reverend. Tell me, why has your uncle not taken action? The Chairman's departure would serve…"

"To warn your – and my clan's – enemies that we are still alive and that you are already starting to take action," Malchio finished Lucifera's sentence, "Not only that, it will destroy the peace that heroes have given their lives to build. Those children who have painted the stars red with their blood, the men and women who still follow my uncle, deserve better than to fight under a burning sky."

"Yes, they do, Malchio," the white-haired woman put down wineglass and turned her attention back to the holo-screen, "But they are imprisoned by their past. And can you blame them, my dear Reverend? The memory of that betrayal has festered for a thousand years, and the knowledge that their old masters have had a hand in engineering the Bloody Valentine War has opened up old wounds. And though, admittedly, though many of those who had wronged them are long dead, the survivors of the Sword and Shield Legions do not forgive or forget." (3)

**(O)**

**_Valley of the Stars Hotel, the private suite of Lacus Clyne, at that very moment…_**

Lacus Clyne looked down at the outlines for her newest novel with a satisfied expression before turning to her attention to the holo-screen where the Cherry Blossom Princess, Mana Shiranui, danced to the lively beat of a re-mastered version of a song the songstress knew all too well. Composed in the days after the end of the War of Wrath, it captured the soul of a bygone age and of the men and women who had fought in it. Melancholic yet full of joy, fierce and defiant, it whispered in its symphony a story of unyielding courage, duty and of heroes worthy of the name.

"_Under the shadow of Mount Meru…_?" Lacus heard Veronica,her bodyguard ever-vigilant shadow, say with a nostalgic smile as she put down a hot cup of tea next to her mistress, "Lady Shiranui has good taste, doesn't she, Miss Lacus?"

The pink-haired songstress hummed in agreement. The holographic projectors of the Princess Athena Indoor stadium had created the image of Tokyo's famed Amaterasu Temple (4), which had been built in the days of the Gear Crusade over six thousand years ago. Outlined and illuminated by the light of the moon and ten thousand stars and warmed by the braziers and bonfires, the indoor stadium became, in that one instant, a magical place where myths lived and breathed. She looked back at her notes and chuckled. Should her friends find out what she had planned for them, she would never hear the end of it. Putting them – or more appropriately, their alter-egos – into the newest remake of one of the longest-running RPG series in the Earth Sphere, Exalted, was Lacus's way of thanking (and teasing) them. The project leader in charge of the remake had approached Lacus eight months ago, and asked if the latter could help him with its completion. As the songstress had fought in an actual war, he believed she could give the series' background story sense of realism. Lacus accepted, but on the condition that she was given the leeway in which she could complete the task. (5)

White Wolf Millennium Publishing, owner of the 'Exalted' franchise, had upon hearing that the revered songstress had taken an interest in the remake of the 'Exalted' series agreed to her conditions. It would, its directors agreed, be a fine way to commemorate the anniversary of the end of the Bloody Valentine War next year. (5)

"Lacus-sama…?" a voice broke the songstress out of her thoughts, and she turned to face the speaker. Standing nearby was Josephine Stele, Lacus's events and PR manager. The dark-haired woman was dressed in a formal business suit, and her long hair was tied in a ponytail. Tucked under one arm was a leather folder, no doubt holding the details of today's schedule.

"Josephine," Lacus stood up, "Is it time for my meeting with the reporters?"

"Yes, Miss Lacus."

The songstress locked her fingers and stretched, "Understood. Give me ten minutes. Let me freshen up a bit."

**(O)**

**_PLANT Neo-Stratos, Sector 14, warehouse district_**

The two cars came to a halt outside warehouses belonging to Iron Works Engineering, a subsidiary of Logos Incorporated, and its passengers emerged from its confines to study their surroundings. The warehouses were located near to the PLANT's seedier districts and were guarded by men and women who shared the aims of the newcomers' backers. One of the security guards, clad in the blue and grey uniform of Shield Security Services, another subsidiary company under Logos, emerged from the guardhouse to greet them. The leader of the small group noted with approval that the man advanced slowly towards them, his easy demeanour at odds with the fact that the safety catch on his pistol's holster was unfastened. A wrong move would have him looking down the barrel of a gun. These security guards were not the run-of-the-mill rent-a-cops. These were professionals, most likely ex-EA marines and footsloggers who had taken the worst ZAFT could throw at them and lived. The group's leader knew that the guards had been expecting them, but had no idea of what they looked like. After all, a covert operation would no longer be covert if the identities of its operatives were known. And the last thing they wanted was to have the authorities on their asses.

"I'm sorry, sir. This place here is private property. I will have to ask you to leave." the security guard said, touching his cap in a greeting.

"My name is Paul, of Iron Work's California Branch," the man replied as he pulled a letter from his jacket and handed it to the security officer, "I was sent by the boss to get some things for our crew who are helping with the Memorial Concert. He wants to make sure the White Princess's performance goes off without a hitch. Is the warehouse's manager in? I need to have a word with him."

The security officer's eyes widened briefly as he took the envelope and read through its contents, "I see. What exactly did the White Princess order again?"

The man smiled, "God's judgment. And it is written in blood – her blood. And we are the Spear that will make right the wrongs the blasphemous have committed."

The security guard stiffened briefly before smiling, "We've been expecting you, Master Chief Hanson. The manager is waiting for you. And before you ask, yes, what you have requested has arrived. Our section chief has been given strict instructions by higher-ups to hand it to you in person. Tom, open the gates! They're clean. Karl, you bring them to Mr. Omar's office!"

As the barrier was raised, Hanson asked the security guard what role he and his were going to play in the forthcoming mission.

"We're your support, sir," the latter replied, "When you make your move to take the whore out, we're gonna make sure you don't fuck up."

"Do you think yourself good enough?"

"Watch and learn, brother," the security guard grinned before waving Hanson and his compatriots through, "Now get in there before someone sees you."

**X X X**

Mr. Omar Ibn Sharif was the leader of Neo-Stratos's Blue Cosmos cell. Born forty-six years ago in the Equatorial Union State of Malaysia, he had studied in its capital's renowned Sultanate University and had graduated with degrees in Engineering and Business Management. It had not taken him long to get a job. Iron Works Engineering took him in the moment he stepped out of the university. Omar was good at his job; one did not become regional manager without proving oneself many times over. And one did not become a leader of Blue Cosmos operations on a colony without having the right contacts, mindset and skill set.

But, in the eyes of Hanson and his peers, Omar Ibn Sharif was another pencil-pusher no different from the bureaucrats in Washington (or anywhere else, for that matter). Given, he had excellent planning skills and foresight, but when push came to shove, the only thing the Malaysian was good for was as a human shield. And one look at his girth told Hanson that the man could take quite a few shots from a shotgun before he was rendered useless as a shield.

"_Assam mu alai kum,_ Mr. Hanson," the portly Blue Cosmos colonial representative said, "I've been expecting you and your compatriots. Please, sit. Mr. Karl, can you get our guests some beer?" the last directed at the security guard who stood outside the office. The man nodded and left.

"You keep beer on the premises, Mr. Omar?" Hanson's female colleague, Fatima Ibn Nalam, raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"Yes, I do. Being in Iron Works is not an easy job, Miss…?"

"Fatima," the woman replied, "Fatima Ibn Nalam."

"Black Fatima…?" Omar's eyebrow shot to his hairline, "I've heard of you! Weren't you involved in Operation Storm Strike? I thought you died in that mission!"

Operation Storm Strike had been EA-China's attempt to take down ZAFT's Bloody Empress and Hydra in a simultaneous decapitation strike that would leave ZAFT forces in Central Asia leaderless. Six EA-China Army divisions and two battalions of elite Einherjar and Sabertooth commandoes had been mobilized, a combined force of close to a hundred thousand. But the Hydra of ZAFT, Saji Genpou, had anticipated the strike, and had raised the alarm. The EA armies, unaware that the enemy had been alerted, soon found themselves facing the might of ZAFT's crack Central Asian divisions and in the jaws of a trap that saw to the entire battle-force retreating from the region in short order. Over ten thousand EA soldiers had been taken prisoner and over thirty thousand had been killed in ZAFT's counter-strike. Fatima had been part of the Einherjar's forward assault units, and had been caught in a vicious gunfight against ZAFT soldiers. She barely made out of that engagement alive, but her actions during the retreat earned her the personal enmity of the Bloody Empress. Fatima had injured the latter's daughter, Ryoki Housen, badly. All in all, Fatima was lucky to get out of Operation Storm Strike alive. (6)

"I almost did," Fatima replied after a long silence, "But many of my friends did not."

"Hey," Fatima's other compatriot, a big-sized muscular man who would not have looked out of place in the slums of downtown Los Angeles, and whose tattooed arms sported skulls, roses and knives that was beautiful in its morbid symmetry, "Hey, enough of this touchy-feely bullshit. We're here to waste that pink-haired slut, not have a walk down memory lane. We can do that when she's pieces on the floor."

"And you are…?" Omar ventured.

"He's Cruiser," Hanson replied, "He's my heavy-weapons specialist. He's ex-Sabertooth. Like Fatima, he's a survivor of Operation Storm Strike. Hell, I might as well introduce you to my team, Mr. Omar. This…" he turned to a bespectacled young man, "is Click. He's my IT specialist. Hacking, programming, repairs, he's my team's go-to guy. Next to him are Josh and Joshua; they're twins. They're my team's close-combat and infiltration experts. The two at the door," he nodded towards a lean, quiet man and a grinning girl who threw Omar a salute, "are Duke and Razor. They're my team's snipers. And last, but not least, is," and Hanson nodded towards a man who would not look out of place in a board meeting, "Ferdinand Marcello. He's not part of my team...but he's one of my organization's top dogs."

"I know of you, Mr. Ferdinand," Omar approached Ferdinand, "The role you played in Operation Divine Wrath has made you a legend in those who wish to see the galaxy free of the Coordinator taint. But pray tell, Mr. Ferdinand, why are you here? This operation is…as the Americans say, grunt work."

"I know, but my superiors insisted. We have some…things to talk about, Mr. Omar," the Spaniard replied, before adding after a brief moment of thought, "In private, if that is all right with you."

"Of course," Omar indicated the chair, "Take a seat, please. Could you and your men wait outside, please, Mr. Hanson?"

"Not a problem," Hanson replied.

**X X X**

When Ferdinand was sure they were alone, he turned his attention fully on the Arab man before him, "I am sorry for all the cloak-and-dagger routine, Mr. Omar, but I wanted to ensure that whatever we spoke of would remain between us and the four walls."

"Understandable, Mr. Ferdinand," Omar replied, "One cannot afford to be careless in our line of work. Especially now, what with the Earth Sphere's governments cracking down on us…"

"Indeed. How many have you lost?"

"That I cannot tell you," Omar grinned, "My superiors would kill me. And I will not ask how many operatives and cells Blue Eden has lost in the months prior to our organizations' agreement to work with one another. Now, what did you want to talk about?"

"Of course…" Ferdinand pulled out his palm-top and woke it from its stand-by mode, "There is one more target besides the White Princess that we were ordered to kill."

"Oh…? Who…?"

"One moment…" the Spaniard opened a file on his palm-top, and before handing it to his Blue Cosmos counterpart, "Her. Tiffa Ayanami of ZAFT's Constellation Team Leo…"

Omar raised an eyebrow. The young woman on the palm-top was beautiful, full of life and a smile that could melt chocolate at twenty paces. Wearing the customized uniform of PLANTs' elite Homeland Defence Force – set up in the months after the War by Lacus Clyne – she radiated strength and confidence. This woman was no shirking violet. No, this one reminded Omar of the Tiger Maiden warriors of the Shogunate.

"Why her, Ferdinand…?" Omar asked, "Other than the fact that she's a Coordinator, what is it about her that has gotten your superiors so worked up?"

"My superiors were not willing to share…" Ferdinand's face was troubled, "But they have made it clear that, if you aid us in this endeavour, we will pay you and the Blue Cosmos handsomely."

Omar leaned forward, "How handsomely?"

"The details are on the last page."

The Blue Cosmos leader's jaw fell when he saw what the Blue Eden faction was offering for their cooperation. He swallowed hard and looked at the latter's representative.

"You're not kidding, are you?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

Omar took a deep breath before replying, "This is too big for me, Ferdinand. I have to speak with my superiors. If I do this, and I make a mess of it, they will kill me."

"Go ahead." (7)

**X X X**

**_Imperial Palace Hotel, Neo-Stratos_**

The Iron Wolf of ZAFT, Maximilian Gerald, smiled in satisfaction as he and his compatriots settled down in the suite. His identification as 'Bernard Charles', an executive of Creative Software International on a business trip, was flawless. He had to give credit to their people in the Intelligence Department; not even the people in HISA and ZAFT's Military Intelligence could have done better. Creative Software International (or CSI in short) had folded some years ago and had been bought over by a PLANT-owned company, Mechanicum International (8), which was a front company that funded Genesis's Light's crusade to bring the Earth Sphere under Coordinator rule and purge it of the Naturals that infested it.

Maximilian turned on the holo-vid. It had been a while since he got a chance to catch his breath. And when he saw Mana Shiranui, the Cherry Blossom Princess, appear on-screen, he whistled in appreciation. Well, he thought inwardly, maybe he would spare the more attractive Naturals. It felt good to be inside one and painting their insides with his seed, good to hear their pleas and feel them struggle. He imagined the White Princess beneath him, writhing beneath him, screaming, begging forgiveness, as he taught her what it meant to betray her race. Her Angel had fallen defending her, and those who stood between the Iron Wolf and his delivering justice on Lacus Clyne would not be able to stop him.

**X X X**

**_On a transport ship approaching Neo-Stratos_**

"Is the bomb ready, Nellens?"

"It's done," the man replied, pulling off his gloves and putting it on the nearby table, "I've deactivated the device, but you can reactivate it by entering the code and setting the timer on your cell-phone. And don't worry; the cops will never be able to find the device. I attached it next to the car's energy cell. That's the last place they look. If they find it, you can tell them that it's the latest energy-saving device. "

"Isn't that a bit dangerous? Putting it next to the car's E-cell is asking for trouble."

"We have no choice, chief. Security is tight, what with all those celebrities and politicians on the colony," Nellens replied and pulled a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, "If we fuck up, Andrew, we're gonna spend the rest of our lives in Guantanamo Bay Prison. And that is if we're lucky…"

"Between you and me, Nellens, what do you think of our chances to get the White Princess?"

Nellens took a long drag of his newly-lit cigarette, "Good."

Andrew digested his friend's answer before asking why.

"We," Nellens replied, "will not be the only ones after Lacus Clyne. I'll bet you a thousand bucks that every Coordinator extremist who swallowed Zala's bullshit about their being the superior race and that we Naturals deserve to be exterminated will be gunning for her. Shit, I would throw in another thousand and bet my balls that many of them are on the colony right now."

"We'd better not bump into them, then."

"We'd better," Nellens agreed, "But that don't mean that people who want the space monsters dead will help us. After all, it's a competition. The one who offs the Pink Whore is gonna get some serious support and a real one-up in reputation. And besides…" he blew a ring made of smoke into the air, "her White Angel is no longer there to protect her."

**X X X**

**_Somewhere in the Solar System_**

In a pavilion in the midst of the sea of blue roses, a massive red-maned giant clad in blue and white armour gazed down upon the enormous holographic chessboard that spread out before her. Armoured talons tightened around the twin-pronged spear that was the symbol of the giant's mandate to rule. It was three meters in length, its haft and blade seemingly made of crystallized blood, twisting around a central axis before spreading into twin blades that could cut through the energy field of an Iron Halo with ease. Those who saw the weapon and the inscriptions engraved on the spear's spiral haft and on the blade's edges knew that it had been crafted by inhuman hands, and that it had seen an age long before the race of Man was born.

With this weapon, the giant had bequeathed a terrible wound on one who would have stood in its way, forcing the latter to quit the field until she could regain the strength she lost, and almost sent the individual who betrayed the High Lord across the River Styx. Armoured talons tightened around the haft; it was impressive that her treacherous servant had managed to survive a blow that could kill Hercules himself. More impressive that he had landed a blow that had all but sent the giant to its knees and the one that had sent it crashing through the ten foot, reinforced walls of the Great Church.

More than the ancient enemy that had hounded the giant across the millennia, it was its treacherous servant she feared more. The latter was a monster the likes of which God would dare not face without risking Final Death. The giant smiled beneath its mask, and its golden eyes returned to the chessboard, and spoke in a voice that was redolent with power, _"Knight to B4."_

The chess piece moved to its appointed position and slew the pawn that was in the square. It was only a matter of time before the White Queen was left undefended. Her beloved guardian, one of the Chosen Ten, now slept in the Halls of Lazarus, awaiting his resurrection.

"Bishop to H4," a voice spoke, causing the giant to turn around to face the approaching figure of a beautiful woman with a mane of silver hair, her curvaceous, strong form clad in a white-and-silver lined bodysuit, "I believe the game is mine, my lord. You cannot escape the trap that now waits to render your King defenceless."

The giant studied the chess-board briefly, and sighed, "This time, my daughter. So, what news of the Earth Sphere…?"

"Operation Broken Blade is in effect. Our pawns are ready to move. All we need to do is give the order."

"Good," the giant turned its attention back to the holographic chess-board and waved an armoured hand over it, resetting the game, "Now, we can raise the curtains on the second act. Tell our servants within the extremist factions within the Earth Sphere that they have my blessing and my permission to act."

**X X X**

And so it would come to past that over a hundred of humanity's – for what was the Coordinator and the Natural other than human – finest killers come to a city in the stars to right wrongs real and imagined. All of these had but one target: the White Princess of PLANTs and the heroine who delivered the Earth Sphere from destruction, Lacus Clyne. Her final breath would be the spark that would re-ignite the inferno of the Bloody Valentine War and deliver destiny into the hands of the victor.

But destiny had been waylaid many times before. And those who had the strength to defy and cross the stars now prepared to draw swords that had lain sheathed for a thousand years. On Neo-Stratos, standing within the Church of the Divine Blessing, the largest church in the colony, glaring at the crucified Christ and the Arabic words that lined the upper wall that praised the Almighty with a loathing that could twist steel, a man wearing a ZAFT uniform turned on heel and strode towards the door, each step a pronouncement of the war to come. The air behind him shimmered, taking briefly the shape of an emerald-haired goddess whose lush, strong body was clad in a suit of orichalum armour. Enormous, membranous wings adorned her lower back and smaller ones emerged from her head. The ghostly figure was armed with a sword whose gleaming edge had ended the lives of heroes and saints, and which would soon be turned against the enemies of her master.

Neither vengeful Prince nor war goddess saw tears fall from the eyes of the statue of the Virgin Mary, nor did they see the sorrowful expression of the stone angels as they watched the two leave.

**(O)**

**_White Sands Mall, Café Medan, at that very moment…_**

"_She is. He is. And it's a girl."_

How was it possible? That was the one question that had plagued Griever Bloodbane of the Black Lion mercenaries (14) for the past three days since its revelation – and it was one without any easy answers. Everything Griever knew and learnt pointed to one inescapable truth: both he and Cross were incapable of siring children. But the Fates – or God – had chosen to twist the knife by granting that which was one of Griever's greatest wishes – and one of the main reasons why he desired the Legacy so – to the one person he deemed unworthy of being granted that gift. Griever remembered what he had read within the Tower of Ezekiel prior to his leaving for the Earth Sphere with Ko Shiatar and the two hundred-strong crew she had handpicked for the mission at hand: for a man to sire a child and for a woman to conceive, the animating spark that was God's gift to all born into Creation was needed. It was that spark that was the key to the Hall of Souls, where the essence of every living being rested or waited until the Fates decided that it was his, her or its time to walk the world once more.

And Griever knew enough of theology to know that the souls of both he and Cross did not emerge from those Halls. Everything that they were was an affront to the Creator. Even their creators had looked upon them with loathing, tolerating them only because of the part they would play in the days to come. Pariahs, they had called them. It was a fitting name to be given to those who would never be part of the human race. He remembered the golden-eyed, red-maned, armoured giant that towered over him, pointing a finger down at him and setting down the conditions by which he could be made whole and absolved of his sins. The voice of the armoured demigod echoed in Griever's ears: "_Should you succeed, everything you desire shall and will be yours. You shall be made whole and your sins will be absolved. Fail and the cold embrace of Death shall be your only reward – and it shall be one that will make the death of my most terrible enemy a merciful one in comparison."_

There was only one enemy in all of history that that armoured demigod had ever acknowledged as its mortal enemy – and he was one, if the stories about him were true, that not even the Four would dare to cross without the assurance of a small army behind them. The Ten Planetary Incarnae, accompanied by the eldest son of the former Divine Wolf and his War Goddess, could not even come close to matching the Legion Master whose wrath had brought the first of humanity's star-spanning republics to a bloody end. Griever was broken out of his thoughts when one of the café's employees, a perky, brown-haired girl, asked him what he wanted.

"Tea," the young mercenary glanced briefly at the menu pasted on the window, "And a chicken sandwich, please."

The girl nodded and left him, returning minutes later with his order. Even as Griever bit into his meal, his mind recreated the scene he had seen in his dreams. He had been standing in the midst of an alien city bathed by the light two moons. That beautiful city of ten thousand spires, celebrating blasphemous gods that mocked the purity and majesty of the Almighty, was burning as the air was filled with the sounds of war. Sleek ships with serrated prows, exuding an air of malice and evil, blanked out the light of the stars and sent fiery bolts crashing into the city. Descending in swarms on open-air, heavily-armed hovercraft were lithe figures with white hair and obsidian skins, many of which were clad in crimson armour and wearing horned helms, their shrill battle-cries bespeaking of their lust to get to grips with a hated enemy. Many were armed with cruelly-serrated blades and rifles of a type Griever had never seen before. And this dark army had not come alone. They were accompanied by heavily armed and armoured figures that were a mockery of the proud Knightly Orders that Griever knew he would one day lead. The sigils on their amour marked them as the warriors who had betrayed the King of Antares many centuries ago during the Kurohime Affair. (15)

Waiting for them were scores of soldiers clad in gleaming armour, wielding weapons that lacked the cruel outlook of their assailants, but which were no less beautiful or deadly. Griever saw that, while human in shape and appearance, many of these _aliens_ bore marks that spoke of their otherness. All had long, pointed ears that reminded the young mercenary of the Gears that lived outside the Earth Sphere and many had glorious white wings that echoed the majesty of the Holy Host. But, Griever's eyes were drawn to a small group that stood apart from the alien army. Many of them were clad in armour and armed with weapons of decidedly human manufacture. A small handful, most of them women who surrounded a man wielding a pole-arm that was a cross between a flanged mace and a spear, wore armour and carried weapons similar to that carried by the aliens. (16)

The vision soon changed, and Griever saw himself deep within the heart of this city. He realized then that the city he was in was sacred to these aliens in the same way that the Vatican and Mecca had been to the Christians and Muslims many thousand years ago before their destruction, if the statues of beautiful alien deities were any indication. He saw a titanic figure of wrath and horror, wreathed in psychic flame and ice, a god – no, a false god – made flesh and wielding power stolen from his one true love. The latter was shackled to base of a massive tree, the enormity of which defied description and upon whose branches entire cities could be built. Blood spilt from her wounds, marring the loveliness that words failed to capture. Her robes were torn, revealing the woman's strong, lush body which had known the bite of the lash and the hatred of her captors. Defiant and unbroken, she begged the being before her to stop before it was too late. But the sorcerer-prince, who had once stood high in the ranks of his people, was beyond caring. He would become a god, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. He would have his revenge. Already, he stood on the edge of apotheosis. He was more than mortal, and no weapon made by mortal hand could cut him down.

But when the massive, ornate jade doors that was the only the only avenue of egress and entrance to the temple's inner sanctum was torn off in an earth-shaking explosion and an armoured figure step into the hall, Griever knew that victory had slipped from the sorcerer-prince's grasp. The man was clad in armour similar to that of the elite praetorians of the High Lords, his torn cloak billowing in the hot winds that spun with hurricane force within the hall. Griever saw that the man was badly injured. Blood – both his and that of his enemies who had tried to stop him – turned much of the badly-battered gun-metal grey armour he wore crimson. The young mercenary's attention was soon drawn to the massive sword the man held in one armoured fist, the runes on its white-hot surface blazing black-and-crimson and causing the very air to shudder as if in pain.

'_You know this man, Griever of the Bloodbane…' _a melodious voice had whispered in Griever's ear, moments before the dream ended, _'As you do the woman who lies bound…' _(18)

Who were they? He had never seen them before in his life. And this dream lacked the…fluidity and lack of meaning that came with such nocturnal illusions. The sound of his cell-phone ringing broke Griever out of his thoughts, and he fished the device out of his pocket. He raised an eyebrow upon seeing the number. It belonged to Garnet McClane, the Black Lions' chief tactical officer (17). The voluptuous violet-haired, blue eyed officer that had been Griever's companion on more than one occasion was back on the ship, overseeing the final stages of the Scythe Griffon and the Blazing Fist Animus Gundams' OS conversion and severing its links to the Skylar AI network. It had been an intelligent move on the part of both the Gundams' creators and their backers to install such a complex security system, but soon it would all be for nothing.

Skylar was no match for the Order's Yggsdrasil System. Griever flipped open the cell-phone and a holographic screen materialized in mid-air, revealing the sensuous face and figure of the Ko Shiatar's aide. He smiled, "I trust you have good news for me, Garnet?"

The woman shook her head, "Unfortunately, no, Commander Bloodbane. We have a problem. Is Commander Shiatar with you? I can't seem to raise her."

**(O)**

**_2__nd__ CDF (Colony Defence Force) Logistics Base, PLANT Aurelius_**

Meyrin Hawke studied the manifest on the data-slate before handing it back to the chief logistics officer with a nod, "Everything is in order, Major Song. Thank you."

The CO of the 2nd CDF Logistics Base, Song Hua, a stern-looking Chinese man, nodded and took the data-slate from the younger girl, "I apologise that it had to take so long, Warrant Officer Meyrin. We had to clarify your request with your commander and ZAFT High Command back on Janurarius. With Operation Frostcrown about to commence, things are pretty hectic back in the Homeland. Especially since Admiral Yzak issued a Def-Con 1 alert to his entire command and is taking off towards Junius-7."

Meyrin froze in mid-step, "Excuse me...?"

"You heard me. Admiral Yzak has just mobilized his entire command two hours ago and is heading towards Junius-7. Whatever it is that has gotten our Lunar Wolf," Major Song referred to the sobriquet given to the son of Ezaria Joule of PLANTs' Ministry of the Interior, "so worked up, it cannot be good. I suspect Chairman Dullindal will get word of Admiral Yzak's actions within the hour…"

"Do you have any idea what made him…?" Meyrin was cut off in mid-sentence by the major.

"I was getting to that, girl. My friends in the Defence Ministry told me that the Admiral got word from a reconnaissance squadron operating near Junius-7 that there were at least three squadrons of Genesis's Light ships in the area."

"Three squadrons…? That many…?"

Major Song turned his eyes up to the false sky of PLANT Aurelius, clear as a summer's day, the light of a false sun the reminder of how far humanity had come in the centuries since it had left its home-world. He had hoped that the Bloody Valentine War would be the only war the children of this generation would have to bear witness to. He was wrong. He did not need a fortune-teller to tell him that another war was coming. The resurgence of the neo-conservatives within the EA, the increased terrorist attacks, the geo-political realignment within the Earth Sphere, the growing tensions between countries – all of it was but a prelude to a war greater than the last. The ZAFT officer glanced over his shoulder at the young, red-haired girl behind him.

'_Will our children have to see the sky burn a second time?'_ the major wondered, even as he warned Meyrin that there was a high chance that a high proportion of the Genesis's Light insurgents would consist of deserters from ZAFT. The girl tried her best to maintain her composure, but Song Hua could see the shock on her face.

"War is not only about one group or country trying to impose their will on another, Miss Meyrin," the major leaned against one of the nearby crates, "It is about beliefs as well. Our fellow Coordinators in the anti-Natural groups believe that the path our former Supreme Chairman espoused is the right one. But you know that it is not. There was once a man in the Dominion who said that if we pursued the path of justice, we must always watch for that faint line in the sand that separates it from vengeance."

"Lord Bartellus Eleison, planetary Governor of Rigel…" Meyrin remembered what she had learnt in university, "His last words to the Templar Legion Master before the latter destroyed the planet."

Major Song Hua nodded, "But there is one more reason why wars are fought, Miss Meyrin, and why we take up arms."

"And that is?"

"Fear," the major turned his to the trio of high-altitude twin-blade assault copters, "The war Lady Lacus brought to an end isn't over yet. It's only just begun. Now, I think you'd best be on your way, Warrant Meyrin. We've kept Commander Talia waiting long enough."

**X X X**

**_En route back to military port, 15 minutes later_**

Meyrin sat quietly in the transport vehicle's driving cab, watching the live telecast of the Cherry Blossom Princess on the vehicle's portable vid-screen, her mind replaying the Major Song's parting words. It had been the same words spoken by a violet-haired warrior-priestess who sat on an alabaster throne within a majestic temple-palace, flanked and guarded by bronze and gold-armoured Saints, the latter of whom listened to Meyrin ask their mistress why one of the bloodiest conflicts in human history had yet to end when those who were responsible for bringing it about were no longer alive to bring further misery to the inhabitants of the Earth Sphere.

"_Because those whom you believe responsible for the Bloody Valentine War, young Meyrin, were not its true instigators,"_ the woman rose from her throne, _"They were merely pawns on a vast chess-board. Here in this game, the King has the power of the Queen, and the Queen marries the power of rook, bishop and knight. Here, the pawn has the ability of a Knight and a rook. And you…little girl…"_ her lips curved in a sad smile, _"you have a part to play, bitter as the role you are given may be."_

"What do you mean?" Meyrin had asked.

"_There are many reasons as to why a family will raise up arms against one another, but no reason can be more painful than the fact that neither are in the wrong, and that what they uphold is precious in ways that words cannot describe. Love and loyalty are two facets of the same coin, after all. One cannot be given without the other."_

The woman was kneeling before Meyrin before the latter realized that the former had moved.

"_Your sister will kill you." _(9)

And that was when Meyrin had shot awake, her racing heart almost tearing open a hole in her chest. She remembered her sister shoot awake in the bed on the opposite side of the room seconds later, the latter holding a pistol in her shaking hands. Meyrin had never seen her feisty, strong-willed sister so scared. Lunamaria had fought in the Bloody Valentine War. She had spilt blood to defend the PLANTs and had crossed swords with the White Angel. There was little that could shake her.

But a dream had. What had her sister seen? No, there was no point asking. Her sister would never tell, and neither would she. It was a dream, after all. Meyrin nodded to herself and turned her attention back to the show.

**(O)**

_**PLANT Aurelius military star-port**_

It was the first time Lunamaria Hawke of the Bloodhawks Elite had laid eyes on the Orb Union's newest _Vairocana_-class battleship, and she had to admit that the country's arms manufacturer, Morgenroete, had done a stellar job of resurrecting one of the most powerful battleships to sail the star ocean. Similar in shape to the _Unconquered Rising Sun_-class battleships (10) that had served as the ships of the line in the days of the Solar Empire, the _Vairocana_-class warships boasted weapons and technology that had left both the military officials of both the EA and PLANTs both impressed and nervous – and thankful that there were no more than two dozen of said ships in the entire Earth Sphere. There were few ships within and outside the Earth Sphere that could stand up to the _Vairocana_-class in a straight fight. Its armaments were nothing but vicious: its prow-mounted _Cataclysm_-class cannons held a range almost twice that of the _Minerva_'s positron cannon, the _Tannhauser_, and its spinal-mounted _Justicar_-class mass-driver cannons were capable of tearing apart the reinforced, armoured hull of a _Behemoth_ battle-cruiser in seconds.

And that was without its point-defence and anti-aircraft guns, missile launchers and MS complements coming into the picture, Lunamaria added inwardly. God help the man who found himself within the range of _ALL_ the _Vairocana_'s guns; the last thing he would ever see is an avalanche of gunfire that would light his road into eternity. The red-haired Bloodhawk caught sight of the crest on the hull of the ship, and her grey eyes widened as the dream she had had the night before returned with crystal clarity and hurricane force.

She saw herself in her ZAKU, fighting under a starlit sky alongside EA and SENTINEL forces against an army that outnumbered them twenty to one. She hovered beside a _Behemoth_-class battle-cruiser that bore the solar and lion-rampant emblem of the Royal Family of Orb, its laser batteries unleashing a storm of fire against a _Leviathan _-class bearing the emblem of ZAFT's Central Asian division, that of the hourglass encircled by a dragon (11). The guns of the latter were blazing furiously, hell-bent on keeping its determined assailant away until it could launch its MS complement. Lunamaria saw her twin raise her ZAKU's beam cannon and cut the ship in half, sending the ship plummeting to the ground like a wounded bird. (12)

She saw a steel angel rush towards her on wings of light, the image of retribution and divine fury, wielding a sword almost fifty meters from end to end, its edges blazing with laser-light. It was a weapon created for the sole purpose of destroying all those who dared to stand in the way of its wielder, at the behest of a High Priest whose dream would arouse the ire of those mightier than he. She heard a familiar voice erupt from the communications channel, screaming her name as though it were a curse. Lunamaria saw her twin turn to face the oncoming threat just in time to block the enormous sword with her beam cannon and fall back before the reverse stroke of the enormous sword cut her in two. She saw her twin draw her ZAKU's beam axe and ready her spiked suppression shield for the inevitable clash with a person she had once been honoured to call friend. Angelic as the suit the latter rode on was, the same could not be said about the fury she had known all along lurked in the shadows of his heart. Grief, anger and regret brewed a potent poison that blackened his soul and made him easy to manipulate. Their weapons met like two thunderstorms colliding, as the ship and the other MS behind Lunamaria withdrew to a safe distance, knowing that to remain in the vicinity was suicide.

She saw how the duel ended as her friend laid her low, sending her broken ZAKU crashing into the Earth, her flight-suit torn and blood spilling from horrific wounds. Lunamaria shivered as she watched Shinn descend from the sky on wings of fire, the angry howl that he unleashed as he prepared to kill her reminiscent of a dragon let loose from its prison in Hell. Lunamaria saw her twin quickly open the compartment next to her seat, where the self-destruct mechanism for her MS was located, and punched in the codes with her uninjured arm. Lunamaria saw no fear in her twin's grey eyes, only defiance and fury. (12)

"Excuse me, miss? Are you all right…?" a concerned voice broke Lunamaria out of her memories. The red-haired Bloodhawk turned to see a young man clad in the purple and silver uniform of the elite protectors of Orb's Royal Family. Lean and well-built, with dark brown hair and grey eyes, the Sardaukar moved with the eerie grace of a killer.

"Miss…?"

Lunamaria coughed, "I'm sorry. I was just thinking."

"I see…" the young man replied, his expression sombre, before it faded away in a smile, "Perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Christopher Kyogoku, sub-commander of the 3rd Company of the 2nd Orb Cataphracts. And you are?"

"Lieutenant Lunamaria Hawke of the _Minerva_, 41st Bloodhawk Elites," the girl raised a hand, wincing in pain as Christopher's gloved hand encircled hers, "Pleased to meet you, sub-commander Christopher."

**(O)**

**_Orb Union, Earth, Morgenroete R&D Facility, Astarte Island_**

The Morgenroete facility at Astarte Island was twice as large as the one on Onogoro Island. Like the latter, it was located within the confines of one of Orb's five major offshore military installations and was, thus, the perfect place to hide the construction of one of the three Dominion-era _Atlantis_-class submersible carriers (19). Two of the three ships were due to be completed by the end of the following month, but the one Athrun Zala, King of Orb, was looking on was but days away from being operational. Completed, the submersible carrier was a staggering five hundred metres from end to end, and was easily ten stories high. It was a seaborne mobile fortress, heavily-armed and armoured, capable of imposing a naval blockade on a country and securing a beachhead with minimal support. But unlike its sisters, this ship was different in but one regard: it sported a prototype Strategic Missile Defence (SMD) system called the Solar Lance. The weapon had been designed by the enigmatic Professor Rika Kyogoku, the younger sister of Christopher Kyogoku of the 2nd Orb Cataphracts, (20) who was standing before the main engineering console and studying the enormous, holographic wire-frame replica of the ship. She muttered to herself and took down notes, and occasionally requested the technician to change perspectives and give her readings regarding power output and distribution.

"Professor Rika? Is something wrong…?"

The older woman turned to face Athrun, tucking a lock of golden hair behind her ear, "I'm sorry, Athrun-chan. You said something?"

The young King smiled at the term of endearment, even as Rika's colleagues suffered near-cardiac arrests. Rika Kyogoku reminded Athrun of Kira's university teacher whom he had met months ago. The latter, Maria Andersen, had taught in the university that his childhood friend had studied in and who regaled the exploits (and the torments) of one of the most adored boys in the school. Athrun had, of course, seen fit to not share the stories with Cagalli. The latter would call him a liar, bop him hard and then toss him into the pool. And then proceed to strangle him after he got himself out.

"I was asking if there was anything wrong. You look worried."

Rika (21) smiled, "I should be. It is a well-known fact that experimental weapons never work the way we want it the first time around – especially high-powered beam weapons. I hope it does not blow up the first time Commander Murrue decides to fire it…"

"Will it?"

"In theory and from the data, no," Rika glanced down at her notes before replying, "But you know as well as I do that theory and practice are two different things entirely, Athrun. I have included fail-safes, of course. One is that the weapon cannot be fired repeatedly. The second is that it can never be fired at full power; at its current level, the weapon is capable of destroying a nuclear missile at a range of over three hundred kilometres. But in the event that should not be enough, the fail-safe can be manually overridden – but it would drastically reduce the ship's power levels."

"What do you mean, professor? When you said that in the event that the weapon's power would not be enough…?"

Rika's eyes turned to the gun that was mounted on the spine of the submersible carrier, "I read from the history books that the Dominion once had in their arsenal the _Atlas_-class missile. It was a heavily-armoured and shielded rocket that the Republics used whenever they learnt that their enemies possessed some form of defence against strategic missile strikes. In those days, those defences took the form of anti-orbital ion cannons similar to the ones Her Majesty, Queen Cagalli, had ordered constructed…"

'_And which she shared with the EA…'_ Athrun added inwardly. He did not approve of the technological exchange initiated by the Seiran family, but could acknowledge the wisdom the latter had shown in their desire to acquire the blueprints of the _Behemoth_ and _Leviathan_-class battle-cruisers. Doing so had not only strengthened Orb militarily; it had also given the country the chance to speak to its former enemies and demand reparations (and a formal apology) from its leaders.

"Their high rate of fire," Rika continued, "coupled with the high power of the beam, was capable of knocking out any missile whether it was fired from orbit or from the borders of another country. Destroying an _Atlas_ missile, however, required a coordinated effort by the planetary defences. Two ion cannon installations must work together in order to destroy the missile before it delivers its payload – some of which had best be destroyed before it enters an atmosphere."

Athrun's expression hardened. He knew what Rika was talking about, even without the latter saying it. He remembered how, two years ago, he and his fellow ZAFT cadets had been forced to sit down and watch a holo-vid their instructor had gone through great lengths to acquire. It showed a world dying; a world, not unlike Earth, being reduced to a rotting wasteland by the virus the ships in orbit rained on it. Athrun would never forget the horror and revulsion that gripped the entire lecture hall. Even Yzak and Deakka had gone ashen. He remembered how Nicol had shot up from his seat when one of the ships unleashed a fiery blast from its main guns into the atmosphere, turning the entire planet into a blazing conflagration in a heartbeat. He remembered how bright his instructor's eyes had been, blazing golden in the darkness of the lecture hall, and how his voice had thundered in its confines, _"There are some among you who wish to visit upon Earth the same fate that had been visited on Junius-7. Whatever your reasons, I will warn you that what you seek is a justice that will make monsters of all of us. We will have vindicated the accusations of those that seek to make us less than human with this act of murder. We will have lost the war. Our fellows in the outer planets will not call us kin. They will not even acknowledge us as _human. _No, they will see us as beasts to be put down, as criminals to be executed."_

How then, one of Athrun's classmates had shouted out, were they to punish those who destroyed Junius-7? Were they to go unpunished for the crime they had committed? His instructor's answer had surprised everyone in the room – and gave the Supreme Council the solution it needed in regards of how to punish the Earth for its trespass. The N-Jammers had been designed with his instructor's words in mind. What use is the sword, he had said, if it cannot leave its sheath? The results of Operation Black Nova (22) had made even the hardliners grin. With their nuclear arsenal neutralized, the EA was forced to fight on a field where the Coordinators had the advantage. That was, until ZAFT M.I. found out about the EA's G-Project. Headed by the late Admiral Halberton of the 8th EA Flotilla, the Project promised to tilt the war into the EA's favour. And that could not be allowed; ZAFT High Command sent in two elite teams to take the MS before they could be taken to Alaska and, from there, to the EA's arms factories. When they found out that Orb had had a hand in the EA's top-secret military project, the teams had hesitated. Attacking the colony of a neutral entity whose technological prowess equalled – and in some areas, surpassed – those of the PLANTs was enough to give any ZAFT commander pause. Had Commander Rau not taken the initiative and launched the attack, Athrun did not doubt that the EA would have succeeded in escaping with the Gundams.

Nor would he have met Kira, whom he did not know was a student on the colony and whom he had neither seen nor heard from for many years. He had remembered how he had frozen in mid-charge when he heard the brown-haired student who stood over the fallen EA officer speak his name. He remembered how a hundred happy memories extinguished the cold rage he had felt then in an instant. He remembered parting ways with a child no older than seven under the gentle light of a false sun beneath sakura trees, asking the latter if he would one day join him in the PLANTs. That child – his childhood friend – had never given him an answer. And on that day, ten years later, their reunion would be held amidst the fires of a battlefield. With the perfect clarity granted by hindsight, that moment was a premonition of the hard, bitter days to come and of pain that would never fade.

Days that had yet to come to an end, Athrun thought as he turned his attention back to the submersible carrier and the words of Professor Rika Kyogoku. Would the EA, he asked the older woman, resort to using bio-weapons or planet-killing weapons in defiance of a treaty that had endured for a thousand years?

"You asked me to create this weapon, Lord Athrun, because you know the answer to that question. And before you ask, I also know the reasons why you asked me to equip the ship that would be given to the SENTINELs with the Solar Lance…" and the woman leaned in closer, her intense gaze holding the young King in place, "For one, I agree with you. And those who are in the know about this agree with you. It will be cruel of me to say so, your highness, but I see no other way to put it. The War you fought and bled to end has yet to end. The masterminds behind it have yet to be brought to justice. And as long as they roam free, as long as they have the resources to do so, the embers of the Bloody Valentine War can – and will – be fanned back into a raging inferno."

**X X X**

**_Orb Union, the Seiran Mansion_**

"Then we are in agreement, Lord Yuna? Lord Unato?" the man sitting before the portly family head of the Seiran family and his heir asked, his hands locked together.

"Yes," Lord Unato Seiran replied finally after a long, thoughtful silence, "Yes, we are in agreement, Mr. Terrence."

"Excellent," the man replied, "I knew we could count on you, Lord Unato. My superiors will be most pleased to hear that we have won your support. In return, we will…assist you in your endeavours. Rest assured, Lord Unato, Lord Yuna…the throne of Orb shall be yours."

**_To be continued…_**

**(O)**

**_Author's annotations and afterword:_**

And that's that! For now…

I apologize profusely to those who have been waiting for an update. I had to go through two drafts, both of which stretched a dozen pages (and more), before I realized that the thing just didn't stick. The third draft finally worked better than the first two, and THAT took more than two months of slogging to get done. And when you're dealing with your finals in University, making time just ISN'T enough time.

I only hope that the current chapter is up to standard. Do leave a review; I, like any other author, love those (especially good ones, suggestions on how to make a story better, and mistakes we may have made – the last part is when we get off-track, and that happens in epics).

All right, next chapter, we'll get to see more the crew of GSD (Shinn and all, including Heine), the operatives of Phantom Pain get ready to kick-start the war, more OCs (what they're doing), some of Kira's old classmates (i.e.: Sai, Kazui and Miriallia), the major (political) players in the Earth Sphere and Cross's buddies (who, I think, are wrecking another bar somewhere on Neo-Stratos…).

1) I could not resist taking a mischievous pot-shot at Singapore's longest reigning political dynasty. Humour was never one of their strong points – and they never did know how to encourage it. Or encourage creativity and profit from it, for another.

2) A bit of Lunamaria's background story.

3) Reverend Malchio – the guy who sent Kira to the PLANTs (and into Lacus's care) – after his duel with Athrun in Gundam Seed Season 1.

4) Amaterasu Temple: Built over six thousand years ago during the days of the Gear Crusade, it doubled as a temple and as a fortress for Japan's armies when the Gear Commander, Justice, besieged the country. It is also the burial ground for the Ten Thousand Samurai, who broke the back of the Gear invasion that devastated the country.

5) And yes, being a lover of White Wolf's Exalted, here was my chance to fire a salvo. Make a good game, make it work, and ten thousand years (and good marketing and PR through that period) are yours to shine in glory. Hey, Cosmic Era still boasts Shakespeare, so why not go the extra yard, hey?

6) Operation Storm Strike: EA-China's attempt to kill the Bloody Empress and the Hydra of ZAFT. Six EA-China Army divisions and two battalions of Einherjar and Sabertooth commandoes were mobilized to see this done. The Hydra got wind of it and raised the alarm, and the attacking EA forces found themselves in the jaws of a trap. Of the hundred-thousand strong army, thirty thousand were killed, ten thousand were taken prisoner and the rest fell back and reconsolidated within EA strongpoint in China's western provinces. Numbers reported here are estimates.

7) A knife is raised against Tiffa…

8) And this is a cheap (and playful) shot to the folks in Games Workshop, meow…

9) Ok – Meyrin's nightmare is that her sister will kill her…

10) For me: Please refer to p.90 of the Leviathan Book; Inflexible-class cruiser.

11) The emblem of ZAFT's Central Asian division is that of the hourglass of ZAFT and a Chinese dragon encircling it.

12) And this is Lunamaria's dream sequence. I think I may have revealed a wee bit too much here. Shinn vs. Lunamaria – HOW in god's bloody Creation am I going to set this up is going to take me some time and a lot of tea sessions with my friends and my muse.

13) Deleted...

14) The group Griever Bloodbane and Ko Shiatar is now known as the Black Lions. If I have made a mistake and named them something else in a previous chapter, please correct me.

15) And these guys look like Chaos Space Marines from WH40K and StarCraft Marines. One can NEVER go wrong bringing them into the picture when the first shots are exchanged. Oh, one more thing: the Wandering Angel played a part in the Kurohime Affair. That one, alas, went sideways…

16) Many of these characters came from BG2 and some of my own OCs, all of which play a major role in this story.

17) Garnet McClane: Character comes from an anime whose initials are DNTR. She is part of Griever's Black Lions and is its tactical officer.

18) And this is Griever's dream sequence. I am seriously going to screw with him, Cross and EVERYONE around them (insert sadistic laughter).

19) Atlantis-class submersible carriers: From the Supreme Commander game, UEF faction.

20) For me: from here on out, Orb's Sardaukar units are referred to as Cataphracts.

21) OC Alert: Christopher (of the Sardaukar) and (Professor) Rika Kyogoku; the wolves are now amongst the sheep.

22) Operation Black Nova was when the PLANTs launched the N-Jammers onto the Earth, thus crippling its power grids and almost destroying its economy. The wise ones ensured that they had alternative energy sources. The EA ate humble pie for several months before they acquired fusion reactors from Mars.


	12. Chapter 10 Redux

**_Gundam SeeD Destiny – Lion of Heaven_**

**_Original Idea, drafts and concepts by Kouryuo Sabre_**

**_Re-written by Spiritblade_**

**_Disclaimer:_**I think we can skip this. We know who Gundam SeeD and GSD series belong to, and who the original writer of this story is – and it will be most discourteous if I should ever forget. Special thanks to Kouryuo Sabre for allowing me to write this story. And, dear readers, I have a favour to ask of you. Please do leave a review or two for both me and Kouryuo Sabre (visit his profile page – it has some excellent works). It will ensure that we don't fall asleep on duty.

In this chapter, we will turn our attentions (briefly?) to the cast of GSD (i.e.: Shinn and the crew of Minerva), Kira's classmates, Phantom Pain, the major political players in the Earth Sphere, as well as Cross and his companions (which include the EA Special Forces groups heading for Neo-Stratos as well as those on it – i.e.: the anti-terrorist Cerberus organization). And for those who can already foresee the ending of the first book, know that you are not far off the mark.

Now, let us begin.

**(O)**

_Mikhail, Eye of God and one of the Seven High Lords of the Church of Lordaeron, sat in her palatial suite aboard her flagship, the _Divine Right_, watching a recorded telecast of IGNN's coverage of the siege of two of the Imperial Dominion's most heavily-defended sector fortresses: Castle Sangelman and Dannar Base. The silver-haired demi-goddess shivered as she watched the Sword and Shield Legions of the Church of Lordaeron tear the beating heart out of those that stood in their way. _

_The war correspondents covering the battles had watched in horror as ferocious gunfights became whirling melees as screaming chain-blades and power swords bit into flesh and armour. Men and women who had fought alongside one another less than a decade ago to build a new era now murdered one another for the sake of a future that was slowly slipping out of both their grasps. The skies themselves shook as angels and gods crossed swords; the vanquished fell to the ground with their wings on fire and the victorious screamed not in triumph, but in bitter rage._

_But the war on the planet was nothing compared to the battles that were fought in space. Capella and Pisces were among the twelve planetary systems guarded the one stable quantum gate route to Terra. Each of the twelve Gateway Systems was heavily defended by thousands of ships, millions of soldiers and hundreds of star-forts. Any of them could have defeated the Legions that Mikhail's master had had sent ahead of the main force to sow chaos and discord within the Dominion. _

_But the Fiery Lord – the appointed master of the vanguard Legions – had done more than just that. His armies may have torn the Dominion garrisons of all twelve systems to bloody shreds, but he and the execution teams he had led ahead of the Legions had sown the seeds of his enemies' destruction. Men and women whose continued existence was a threat to the Crusade simply disappeared without a trace. Just as many who were not were likewise killed, if only to keep the beleaguered authorities and the citizens of the Dominion unaware of what was to come. Men and women, young and old, innocent and guilty – all were fair game to Mikhail's enraged compatriot. The silver-haired Eye of God had seen the Fiery Lord angry before, but the atrocities he had committed as he cut a bloody path to the throne-world of the Dominion bespoke of a wrath that would be slaked only when the one who had so offended him was crucified on the bow of his flagship._

_And who could blame him for acting as he had? The Dominion had destroyed his home-world and decimated his clan. At least, that was what he was told. Mikhail rose from her seat and looked at the reports that rested on the nearby table. She remembered what the Wandering Angel, the Fiery Lord's mentor and the son of the Silver Siren, had told her prior to his departure for the Algol Star System. He had warned her to keep an eye on her fellow High Lords and several of the Sacred Beasts. They, he told her, had been behaving suspiciously for quite some time now. Why were the Church's forge worlds operating at Crusade levels? What was the reason behind the military build-up and the re-assignment of entire companies to Legions whose modus operanti differed from their own? And to add weight to his suspicions, several of said companies had been _**veteran** _companies whose rolls of honour stretched back centuries. Their reassignment would have caused their respective Legion Masters to raise holy hell._

_Mikhail herself had done the same when she found out that the equivalent of a fully-equipped Chapter from her Steel Crusaders had been redeployed and reassigned to the Fiery Sword Legion. The Supreme Commander of the Order and her compatriot in the Council of the High Lords, Michael, told her that the reorganization and redeployment was part of an initiative to reinforce those Legions whose numbers had been – deliberately, the silver-haired Eye of God discovered later on – decimated by years of conflict. It had been an acceptable explanation, and Mikhail had let the matter rest despite her better judgment and her subordinates' protests. Had she done otherwise, could she have averted this unforgivable act of betrayal?_

"A sword is being forged, Lady Mikhail. But against whom it is being wielded, I do not know."

_It was only after the Reclamation Crusade was over did the beautiful, silver-haired Eye of God get her answers. But by then, it was already too late. The lies had already taken hold, the deed already done. Blood spilt cannot be poured back into the veins of those already slain. Mikhail helped herself to a glass of strong Betelgeusian spirits, the same vintage that the Wandering Angel had given her years ago as thanks for her saving him and his companions. Smooth as silk, yet warm as autumn, the beverage was reserved only for special occasions on his mother's home-world such as marriage or the birth of a new child to the clan._

"Should you one day get married, Mika, I will give you a better vintage than the one Sheik got off the shelves at Sears! Do it soon, though! I have a feeling that you may have to forfeit that bottle to him!"

_Mikhail could not help but laugh, remembering the lovable and irreverent rogue that was Shateiel Spiritblade. Auburn-haired, with grey eyes that turned crimson whenever the latter was angry, a body that made women drool and a smile that could melt chocolate at a hundred paces, the Betelgeusian known throughout the Order as the Angel of Silence had served as the Fiery Sword's First Captain and was a member of the Fiery Sword Legion's Council of Thirty. He was born during the bloody years of the Third Rosario Blade War – which, if memory served, took place scant years after the Second Crimson War in the Shogunate came to an end – to two sworn enemies whose clashes had defined the conflict. _

"My mother had never stopped telling me that I was her pride and joy. That despite how my siblings and I were conceived, that she did not hate my father. I never understood it at first. How could our mothers love a man who had raped them, and had done so repeatedly?"

_Nial Spiritblade of the Antarian Kingdom's Crimson Fists Knightly Order had been tasked by his Legion Master with the capture – or the elimination – of the Betelgeusian resistance's most feared assassin: the Crimson Witch, Io Angela. The beautiful and sensuous assassin was responsible not only for numerous acts of terrorism that had left a good number of Antarian government and military officials dead, but also for stealing more than twenty battle-cruisers from the Dylar shipyards within the Kingdom of Antares – an audacious act that has left its ruler red-faced and the Director-General overseeing of the facility stripped of his position._

_As befitting any good operative, the Crimson Witch did not act alone. She was aided in her missions by the master thief and hacker, Lutea Northwind, and the female Technique Master, Fie Edelweiss. The second and last brought in the groups they had been part of into what was to later become the Gorgon Assault Division. Galactic Police and Antarian Military Intelligence reported the group, at the height of the insurgency, to be between fifty and a hundred strong, equipped with everything from heavy assault rifles to Assault Suits. The Gorgons were typical of many of the Betelgeusian insurgency groups: small, agile, well-armed and well-organized. _

_The silver-haired Eye of God had fought on Betelgeuse during the Third Rosario Blade War, back when she had been a Legion Master herself, and had crossed swords with the insurgents on more than one occasion. She had known long before her Legion had made landfall onto the planet that underestimating the Betelgeusian resistance groups was a mistake she would not be allowed to make a second time – a lesson many of her fellow Order commanders and their Antarian allies had learnt far too late. She was also aware that, because of her high rank within the Order and the fact that she was to replace Empress Elisa Atreides on the Crystal Throne, that she would be a prime target for every resistance fighter out to make a name for him or herself. Fate saw to it that the Betelgeusian resistance groups would oblige her. On her seventh month on the planet, after a particularly hard campaign to crush what remained of the Betelgeusian Royal Army, the insurgent groups and elements of the Betelgeusian Royal Navy launched a joint assault on the Order-occupied port city of Aquarius. It was in the midst of the inferno that Mikhail had met the Crimson Witch._

"Natasha-_omoni_ (1) told me that my father was one of the few in the entire Rosario Blade War that fought without hate in his heart. She told me that he would never strike at the innocent and the helpless. Not for him were the methods so loved by his peers; methods that had earned them the enmity of both the Galactic Police and the inhabitants of a world that did not deserve the atrocities done to them. I have met the men and women who owed their lives and dignity to my father's intercessions. I have met the sons and daughters of those he had killed. And though they will never forgive my father for what he had done, neither will they forget the manner in which he had felled their parents."

_Io Angela's puissance in combat was easily the equal of a Knightly Order Chapter Master. With gun and blade, the Crimson Witch had cut down both of Mikhail's gynoid bodyguards and wounded her nigh unto death. Had Shateiel's father not intervened, the silver-haired Eye of God would have found herself in the Elysian Fields. Mikhail remembered the way the Crimson Witch had addressed Nial prior to their exchanging blows. There had been a mixture of loathing and admiration in the beautiful assassin's voice. She, like Mikhail, knew that the man that barred her way was nothing like those she had sent screaming to Hades. _

_The silver-haired Eye of God had heard it said throughout the galaxy that Betelgeuse welcomes each and every new soul that would be born or would come to live under its skies; that the world itself lived and breathed through its sons and daughters, through the stories they told, the songs they sang and the children they breathed life into. Its religious festivals celebrated and honoured not the glory and might of deities, but of the things they had, in their infinite wisdom and mercy, created. To each soul, the religious leaders and mystics of Betelgeuse spoke, do the gods paint a thousand shades of colours and write a symphony in his or her honour. No two souls were ever the same; all were special in their eyes, all loved and hated in equal measure. The moment Nial's crackling blade met Io's shrieking laser sword did Mikhail realize what the blind Betelgeusian priestess she had met weeks before had been true._

**_"Your coming here, Empress Mikhail, was destined…"_**

"You, Mika, were the reason my parents met. You are the reason why my siblings and I were born, why we can treasure that which so many take for granted. And for that, I thank you."

**_"When the Eye of the Creator and the crown of the Queen of Heaven are in alignment, the first words of the final chapter of a legend will be written. You, like I, are the instrument by which the Almighty will work Her Will on Creation. The Prophetess-Saint Leknaat Ashtall told me years ago that the sons and daughters of both me and my sisters' wombs will stand beside the mightiest of the White Princess's children. If the stars are right and the gods are merciful, then perhaps the tragedy that has endured through the eons can be brought to an end in our lifetimes. But the likelihood of that is low, for the stars stand against our prayers..."_**

_The planet was _**SINGING**_ to both the Crimson Witch and her adversary as they fought. It was a primal, ancient song that was beautiful beyond words. It spoke of life and struggle, of beginnings and endings, of defiance and pride and of a mythic age brought to an end by the words and actions of the arrogant. And Mikhail knew the meaning even though she did not understand the words. The silver-haired Eye of God stood up and strode towards the bookshelf adorned on both ends by the marble reliefs of lion-headed cherubs, before withdrawing a leather-bound book. It took her a brief moment to find the page she was looking for, and the words which would come close to that which echoed the song in her mind. Its original prose was married to the words of a poet who lived in the later decades of the 21st century as well as the haiku written by a Holy Order Templar who had fought in the bloody years of the Gear Crusades:_

Even if all you held dear is worthless in the eyes of all who beheld it,

Would you relinquish the struggle to embrace that which is worthless to thee and valuable to the scornful?

What price loyalty, love and forgiveness?

What sacrifices made for freedom in its many guises?

The task of man, woman and deity alike is not to seek for love,

But to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.

The sakura petals that fall from the trees and dance on the wind,

Mirrors the right given unto all who will walk the many ages of Creation:

Life and courage; Hope and strength; Love and faith

So, my dearest one, fear not.

All will be as the Almighty wills it.

**_"You must steel yourself, Star Empress. The path you must walk is a long and hard one. Many a good man and woman will fall before the vengeful blades of the betrayed and the ambitious before the wrongs can be made right. But you will not be alone. One day, many decades from now, you will find that which so many have sought, and have learnt that power and wealth cannot buy."_**

_Mikhail looked back at the holo-screen, where the IGNN reporter and her crew watched in awe as a Dragoon – one Mikhail and her fellows knew all too well – cut an Imperial light-carrier in two and reduced a pair of Warhound scout titans into scrap with focused graviton cannon blasts that tore a smoking crater in the heart of Sangelman City's business district. The ensuing shockwave caused combatants within a ten kilometre radius to lose their footing and for buildings whose structural integrity had been compromised in the wake of the city's siege to collapse. _

_"I am Shiva, destroyer of worlds…" a voice behind Mikhail caused the silver-haired Gear to whip around to see the dark-haired, curvaceous form of her peer, Castomira Ladriel; she who was slated to take the place of High Lord Kale Andersen on the Ruby Throne as the new Eye of Justice. _

_"And with me, I bring the knife of flame and the end of civilisations," Castomira finished, her lips curving in sardonic amusement, "By Imam Kumar-Aridin of the Caliphate. I find his works rather inspiring. Don't you, sister?"_

_Mikhail masked whatever hostility she felt for the former Shogunate Grand Admiral before replying, "I never thought you were into poetry, Mira. But yes, I like his works. Is there something you want, sister? I would like some time alone, if you don't mind."_

_"I understand. But Michael and our master have called for a meeting. You were the only one that did not respond to the summons. Did you not receive the message on your inter-link?"_

_Mikhail turned towards her work console, and saw that the red light on the holo-screen was blinking, indicating that there was a Level-1 priority message awaiting her perusal. The silver-haired Gear sighed, "When will the meeting begin?"_

_"In twenty minutes. It is being held aboard the _Celestial Chariot. _Come, we'd best hurry. When it is over and done with, then maybe the two of us can return to our memories. I, for one, have no wish to be in the presence of our master or those preening hyenas longer than I should."_

**Chapter 10**

**Enter Shinn Asuka/ Einherjar Heine/ Queen of Swords/ **

**Naamah of the Golden Hair/Dreams and Memories – 6/ The Order is given**

**Game of Thrones – 1 **

**_Kurohime Mall, Café Medan, PLANT Aurelius_**

Shinn Asuka hated being alone. Whenever he was alone, the memories of the events that had forever changed his life rose from the shallow grave from which they had been buried. Try as he might, the bloody days of the Siege of Orb had birthed a vengeful ghost that would haunt the young man till the day he died or until he had settled the score with those who had brought it about. He stirred the cup of hot chocolate he had ordered minutes ago. The fragrant scent made Shinn smile. Hot chocolate: that had been his younger sister's favourite drink. Whenever they went out, Mayu would force him to take her to the nearest Café Medan outlet and buy her a cup – always. And Shinn, wanting to keep his sister from selling him out to their parents about his 'study sessions' with his friends, always relented. The drinks were not cheap. Each cup cost at least 12 Earth Dollars – money that could have gone into his buying the latest PSP-Mk/7.

The young Bloodhawk Elite pulled out a pink cell-phone from his pocket. It was the last memento of his sister who, like his parents, had died two years ago during the Siege of Orb. He could still see clearly in his mind their torn, bloodied bodies lying amidst the burning ruins of the Orb military base that had been designated as a civilian evacuation point – an area that was, according to the Lunar Charter, off-limits to any and all combatants. But the Charter – or the rules of war, for that matter – meant little to the man who had led the EA invasion force to Orb's shores or to those soldiers who were determined to settle the score with those who had slaughtered their comrades in Alaska and Panama. Orb's decision to remain neutral in the war to bring the PLANTs and its inhabitants to heel was, to the hardliners in the EA, the same as the country declaring for the enemy.

_"Hello. This is Mayu. I am elsewhere at the moment, so please leave me a message, okay? I'll get back to you as soon as possible."_

It did not matter to Shinn what his instructor in the Academy, his squadron commander and his friends aboard the _Minerva_ had told him regarding Orb's refusal to align with the EA or the PLANTs. The Attha family was responsible for the deaths of both his parents and his younger sister. They were responsible for the thousands of graves that lined the fields of Valhalla Crest on the Orb mainland. Everything he knew and loved was in ashes because of them. Shinn had once read that lofty ideals held in them the seeds of tragedy and he knew this to be true. History had proven it time and time again. Countries had burned and its people slaughtered because of its leaders' refusal to compromise, to put their people above themselves. Would Orb's new rulers make the same mistakes as their predecessors? Would they cling to power at the expense of those that looked to them for protection?

He did not know. Shinn knew that the Lioness of Orb was no different from her father, but her husband was a different matter entirely. Everything he had heard about Orb's Crimson King painted a picture of a man who knew what it meant to lead others. The men and women who had served under Athrun Zala when the Bloody Valentine War erupted had spoken highly of him. Many had looked forward to his marriage to Lacus Clyne, which would only serve to strengthen the internal unity of the PLANTs' Supreme Council, and in a time of war, that was only in the good. But as the war intensified, as its reasons for its waging became justifications for atrocity, the loyalties of Lacus Clyne and her fiancé – as well as the feelings they had for one another – began to waver.

Both political and military analysts agreed that Operation Spitbreak had been the straw that broke the camel's back. Instead of attacking and occupying Panama Base where the EA's only remaining mass driver was located and forcing its government into peace talks, Patrick Zala ordered the forces that he had had assembled for that task to attack the Atlantic Federation's military headquarters in Alaska. The hardliner PLANT Chairman's intent had been clear: he wanted the EA's unconditional surrender. And had he succeeded, there was no doubt in Shinn's mind that the war would have ended then and there. But the EA had long anticipated the move and had built a CYCLOPS self-destruct system beneath the base. Upon luring almost 80% of the attacking ZAFT force into the base, the EA commanders activated the system, killing everything within a ten kilometre radius. Shinn remembered the storm of anti-Coordinator and anti-Natural sentiments that had swept through the Earth Sphere in the days that followed, remembered as war correspondents from the Solar System's various news networks covered the conflagration that erupted on a hundred battlefronts across the Earth Sphere as enraged Natural and Coordinator soldiers engaged each other in brutal point-blank fire-fights.

But the failure – and the execution – of Operation Spitbreak had done more than just to fan the flames of the Bloody Valentine War. It sowed the seeds of its end. Its heralds took the shape of the beautiful and revered songstress, Lacus Clyne, and her chosen champion, the White Angel. Shinn closed his eyes. He could still see behind his closed eyelids the blue-and-white angel that soared in the burning skies of his former homeland, its cannons cutting the air with crimson death as it duelled with the Raider, the Forbidden and the Calamity, all of which had been piloted by the EA's bio-engineered super-soldiers, the Extended. He could still hear the thunder of war and feel the earth shaking beneath his feet…

"Shinn, you okay…?"

Shinn looked up to see Youlan standing next to him, a concerned look on his face. The latter had a cup of mocha in one hand and a plate of sandwiches in another. The young Bloodhawk Elite nodded in response to his friend's question, "Yeah, I'm okay. I was just thinking about…"

"What happened two years ago?" Youlan finished, "And if you ask me how I knew, I will hit you harder than Commander Heine did three weeks ago."

Shinn swallowed hard. Now that had not been a pleasant memory. Heine Westenfluss, Shinn's squadron commander, was easily one of the most skilled martial artists the young man had met. The young Bloodhawk was no pushover when it came to unarmed combat, but the dizzying speed and the strength his commander had displayed had been astounding. Outnumbered three to one, and he still handed everyone what remained of their dignity on a silver platter – grinning. Grinning! He remembered Lunamaria lying on the mat, the dazed expression on her face telling Shinn that Heine had hit her harder than he had intended. Unflappable, stoic Rei (2) had been cursing under her breath and muttering something about fighting the White Angel in person being the safer option than taking on her squadron commander.

"I don't think that's possible, Youlan. But yes, you got me. I was thinking about …"

"How firm those girl's breasts were, right…?" Youlan derailed Shinn's thought-processes with a single stroke, "Man, Shinn, I'm envious. From what I could tell, they were a cup size larger than Lunamaria's, right?"

Shinn's face went through all the shades of a glorious sunset, his hands waving frantically even as denials spilled from his lips. Youlan laughed merrily. This was the Shinn everyone liked being around – the one that his eyes on the future and not his past. Youlan prided himself on the fact that he was one of the few people who could keep the ghost of Shinn's past where it belonged – in the grave. The engineer looked at the bags which held the things the Hawke sisters had had Shinn purchase in exchange for their help in fine-tuning the OS of his Mobile Suit and grinned. Therein laid the chance to poke more fun in Shinn later – and Youlan would be damned before he let such a chance go to waste.

**X X X**

**_30 minutes later, at an auto-cab stand…_**

Shinn glared at the grinning Youlan, his right eye twitching fearsomely, as the latter regaled to their shipmates as to what had taken place some three hours ago. The young man's mind was on overdrive, creating and discarding plans in which he could kill his friend and hide the body. Make that 'bodies', the young man corrected. The others had made themselves targets the moment they started offering him advice on how he should treat girls. Groping their breasts on the first date was a big no-no; a good meal at a good restaurant like the Luna Throne was a definite must. Shinn amended his plans once again – he would strap suicide vests to his friends before throwing them out the air-lock. After all, a little collateral damage never hurt when it comes to making a point. Vino Dupre, the youngest of the engineers assigned to the newly-constructed _Minerva_, patted Shinn on the back to calm the young Bloodhawk pilot down. He could practically see the steam pouring out of the latter's ears.

"Take it easy, Shinn. Youlan's just screwing with you," the young engineer said, "You know he gets off seeing you mad. So, did you get yourself anything?"

"Yeah," the young Bloodhawk Elite replied, "The new PSP-Mk/8."

"Whoa," Vino grinned, "Cool. Any games…?"

Shinn nodded, and his expression was one of rare glee, "Managed to get a copy of the '_Exalted: Throne of the Solar Empress'_ game, the _'Magister Negi Magi: Shades of Eventide'_ game and last, but not least…"

"What? What?" Vino's face became boyish with excitement.

Shinn grinned, "I managed to get my hands on the _'War of Wrath: Stars on Fire'_ game remake."

"What…? You're kidding! You actually managed to get your hands on it? How? Where? Tell me now, Shinn, or I swear I'll sabotage your Impulse and let the enemy have their way with you!"

The young Bloodhawk Elite pilot chuckled as he pulled out a small package out of his bag and handed it to Vino, "I made an order for **_two_** copies, Vino. I know you've been trying hard to get it ever since the game's release some six months ago, so I called in a few favours. I know some guys in HQ who are on first-name basis with some of the guys in the company, and had them made the arrangements. I know it's a bit early, Vino, but happy birthday."

Vino's eyes were sparkling and teary with joy as he looked at the game in his hands. Man, he owed Shinn big for this!

"Hey, guys!" a voice called out, causing Shinn and his friends to turn towards a group of young men dressed in casual clothes. Each and every one of them carried bags filled with items they had bought from the malls on PLANT Aurelius.

"Simon! There you are! What took you?" Youlan called out.

"Sorry, guys. We got held up," Simon replied as he and the last four members of the group rejoined their compatriots.

"For twenty minutes?" Youlan turned his attention to his colleague, "You'd better have a good explanation for this, man, or you'll be on latrine duty for a week."

"You're on. And if what I tell you impresses you, **YOU** do the cleaning," Simon fired back with a predatory grin.

Vino and Shinn exchanged nervous looks with their compatriots upon seeing the expressions on the faces of the two senior engineers. This would not end well. Youlan and Simon delighted in tearing each other to shreds just for the sheer hell of it. It was an unspoken rule on the _Minerva _that whenever the two started something, no one was to interfere. This was just one of those times.

"Done," Youlan replied, "Now impress us."

"I just saw the Lioness of Orb."

Eyes widened and mouths dropped. It took a while before anyone could speak. What was Orb's queen doing on Aurelius? Wasn't she supposed to be heading for PLANT Neo-Stratos for the Second Memorial Ceremony that was going to be held there in a few hours' time? They had questions and assumptions aplenty, but one thing was for certain. The daughter of the late Uzumi Nara Attha was not on the colony for a holiday.

**(O)**

**_TITAN Research and Development Facility mess-hall, PLANT Aurelius _**

The mess hall of the TITAN R&D Facility on PLANT Aurelius was huge, capable of catering to its massive workforce of eight thousand with ease. And the food there, like its furnishings and interior design, was excellent. Heine Westenfluss, Commander of the _Minerva_'s Bloodhawk Elites and marine contingent, nodded in approval. His growling stomach informed him that it was time to get a meal – a big one. Work tended to leave him hungry – and there would be more when Chairman Dullindal arrived with the Lioness of Orb. No doubt, the two were speaking about the forthcoming anti-terrorist initiative…or maybe they were discussing about the way the PLANTs were utilizing Orb technology in its fabrication of new weapon systems that contravened the clauses of the peace treaty signed between Earth and the PLANTs.

_'Most likely the later,'_ the Bloodhawk Elite commander thought as he ordered his food and paid for it, _'It bothers me how Orb and the SENTINELs managed to get wind of Project Longinus_ (3)_. There are only a handful of people who know about it, and most of these are within the Supreme Council and the Ministry of Defence. And none of them strike me as the sort to let the cat out of the bag. And speaking of cats…'_ Heine glanced at a magazine that a female TITAN employee was reading, upon which was a picture of the Queen of Orb and her newly-birthed twin daughters, _'Is this really _something_ the Lioness of Orb should be dealing with right after giving birth?'_

It was a question that many of Heine's subordinates and peers had been asking. Everyone knew that the strain on a Natural female pregnant with Coordinator children was incredible. Most Natural women would have resorted to transplanting the foetus into an iron womb so as to spare their bodies the strain, but there were those who were of the mind that the only place their children belonged was within them. The chances of miscarriage were high, but those who managed to give birth to their children were regarded by those Coordinators who adhered to the Darwinist ideals as being superior to the rest of their race. The same applied to those male Naturals who managed to impregnate their Coordinator lovers.

Heine chuckled, remembering what his childhood friend had told him regarding that topic before they parted ways years ago: _"No Natural guy in his right mind says no when a Coordinator girl wants him as her boyfriend and the father of her children. Not if he wants to live."_

The Bloodhawk Elite commander wondered how his friend was doing. It had been a long time since he had last spoken to his former schoolmate. Had he graduated from University already? Was he working now? Had he managed to snag a girlfriend? The devil on Heine's shoulder grinned and ran a finger on the rim of her scandalously-cut dress, and asked if that was **_really_** an issue. The ochre-haired Coordinator laughed inwardly. No. No, it would not be an issue. He remembered the school festival they had gone to. He remembered the terrified look on his friend's face when he abandoned him to the tender mercies of their school's council president and her friends, all of whom had been all too happy to exact revenge on their vice-president for abandoning them when they needed him most – which was often.

And honestly, who could blame him for doing so? Having seen what his friend had dealt with on a weekly basis back then, the latter's penchant for making himself scarce whenever possible was nothing if not wise. One does not walk into the lion's den simply to find out if said beast was within when one already saw it entering. Nonetheless, there had been consequences for his throwing his friend under the bus – and it took the shape of his friend's younger stepsister, all too eager to do Heine in. The look of insane fury in her red eyes and the mocking smile on her lips was the stuff of nightmares. The fact that she had come without her ever-present sword had made things even worse.

Heine could deal with his friend when the latter was mad. Dealing with **ANY** of his three stepsiblings when they were angry was another matter entirely. And when they came for the object of their ire unarmed, the end result was often worse than when they were otherwise. The ochre-haired Coordinator had run as fast as his legs could take him, his friend's angry step-sister hot on his heels. Yes, taking on Lacus Clyne's champion in single combat was assuredly safer – much, **MUCH** safer – than taking on the white-haired girl who was determined to give him a sex change.

The young Bloodhawk Elite commander shivered at that. He remembered all too vividly the time he and his fellow Bloodhawks had crossed swords with the White Angel. They had lasted a grand total of twelve minutes and twenty seconds against that heroic monster whose deeds had become legendary by the time the White Princess had led her army to the Solomon Sea in a desperate attempt to end a war that would deliver both the victor and the vanquished into the waiting arms of the Ashen King.

_'And the Earth Sphere into the hands of its enemies,'_ Heine added inwardly. The ochre-haired Coordinator was all too aware that the Earth Sphere, the Venusian Federation and the Dukedoms of Mercury were the last free – and much-coveted – enclaves within the Solar System not under the rule or the influence of the Kingdom of Lordaeron or the Empire of Reyguard. Conspiracy theorists believed that the Bloody Valentine War was a shadow war between – and was orchestrated by - the enigmatic High Lords of Lordaeron, a group of seven powerful figures whose role was to 'advise' Lordaeron's King, Nicholas Aurelian VIII (21), and the current Emperor of Reyguard, Bernhardt Glastheim. There were other players in the 'Game of Princes', a reporter from the _Sector Enquirer_ had written, all of whom wielded considerable power and influence. Some of them, he claimed, were rich and influential members of the Earth Sphere. Heine snorted. What that reporter – George Clayton, if memory served – wrote was all utter rubbish. But the implications if such a thing were ever to be proven true would be nothing short of disastrous. And such a scenario would fit in with the dream – no, nightmare – he had had days before. While most political and military analysts dismissed the idea that the Kingdom of Lordaeron or the Reyguard Empire would want to mount a full-scale invasion of the Earth Sphere due to the problems they had, Heine believed otherwise. It was only a matter of time before they managed to subdue the Independent Martian States and those regions which had yet to submit to the authority of two of the Solar System's rising powers.

And when that happened, the scenario the creator of the EA's G-Project, the late Admiral Halberton of the 8th Fleet, had envisioned would come true. Heine turned his attention to a travel magazine a female TITAN employee sitting on his left was reading. Its cover page boasted a panoramic scene of the majestic skyline of EA-Korea's capital and one of Earth's twelve Hierarchical Cities: Seoul. In Heine's dream, that prosperous yet ancient city, which had borne witness to the passing of centuries and was renowned for its excellent food, its medieval and Old Earth architecture and its friendly and lively people, had been reduced to a sea of fire where the soldiers of EA-Japan's Northern Army Group and the warriors of the Empire of the Rising Sun fought in. The skies above the city were no safer: the EA air-force were bleeding themselves white trying to prevent the Shogunate's fighters from claiming air superiority even as their gunships braved enemy anti-aircraft fire to deliver their payloads.

All of this, Heine had seen on the holo-screens on a battle-cruiser's observation deck which had been hovering high above the battlefield, its powerful laser batteries raking and tearing the EA defence lines to bloody shreds. And the man responsible for the devastation of one of the Earth Alliance's most heavily defended strongholds in the Asian region was one Heine would not dare face without the assurance of a massive army backing him up: Oda Nobunaga, one of Emperor Yoshiro's Seven Heavenly Tigers and the conqueror of the Republic of Ekyolan-Falaria. Lean and powerfully built, clad in ornate blue and gold-chased armour, the head of one of the Empire of the Rising Sun's most powerful noble Houses looked every bit the king (and conqueror) his ancestors had been. Sensing his presence, the brown-haired warlord turned to face him, the arrogant smile on his lips and the mockery in his golden eyes softening as he did so. (4)

_"Welcome, young samurai, to my ship."_

Heine drew in a deep breath. Try as he might to convince himself that it had all been a dream, he could still feel the hand of the Eagle of the Shogunate on his shoulder and the approval in his voice. What had he done to win the respect of one of the Solar System's foremost warlords? The young commander's thoughts were interrupted when one of the TITAN employees at a nearby table said, "Hey guys, look! It's the Cherry Blossom Princess!"

Heine looked up at the nearby vid-screen and saw on it, clad in a customised crimson and white kimono adorned with sakura petals and carrying a traditional Japanese umbrella, was Mana Shiranui, one of the Solar System's most beloved celebrities. Elegant and sensuous, beautiful and full of life, the Cherry Blossom Princess was one of the few untarnished stars in an industry where scandal walked hand-in-hand with wealth and fame. A playful smile curved the dancer's lips as she raised one hand in greeting to her cheering fans before blowing them a kiss.

**_"Hey everyone, how are you doing?"_**

The thunderous cry of affirmation shook both the Princess Athena indoor stadium and the TITAN facility's mess-hall.

**_"Great! I know you guys and girls are here for a show – and you'll get one! But first, I want to dedicate the first dance of the evening to a special someone!"_**

Heine raised an eyebrow upon hearing that. The Cherry Blossom Princess had managed to find a partner? Oh, the media was going to have a field day with this. They would leave no stone unturned in their quest to know everything about the individual who had won the heart of one of the entertainment industry's most beloved figures. It would be just like when they found out that Lacus Clyne and the White Angel had been close, and that the last had been in a relationship with the daughter of the late under-secretary of the Earth Alliance, George Allster. Reporters – both from the tabloids and mainstream newspapers – had approached both women, hoping to put a name, a face and a life to an individual of which little is known, but whose exploits had made him a legend both on the PLANTs and on Earth. They were to be disappointed. Neither they nor the White Angel's friends and crew-mates had been willing to speak about the young man whose blood and tears had been the words and the ink on the peace treaty that had brought the Bloody Valentine War to an end. And honestly, who could blame them? They had seen someone they cared for die right in front of them, taking a blow that would have killed any decorated hero of the War ten times over. Not that the paparazzi and certain unscrupulous reporters cared. All they wanted was a story that would make their careers. It had given Heine and his peers no small amount of pleasure when a particularly unpleasant reporter from the _Solar Enquirer_ tabloids – the same one who had made his friend's life difficult years ago (5) – was formally charged in court for attempting to blackmail Lacus Clyne into granting him a private interview. Said reporter, a Natural by the name of Robert Clayton, had acquired particularly inflammatory material regarding the White Angel from his contacts in hopes of forcing the songstress to agree to his demands.

It did not work. Used to the underhanded methodology of such individuals, Lacus had had her bodyguards show the man the door – but not before relieving him of said material and reporting him to the authorities. Chairman Dullindal had not been amused when he got word of what had happened, and had promptly thrown the book at both the reporter and his employers. And that was nothing compared to what the Lioness of Orb did when she learnt of the incident. The owners of the _Solar Enquirer_ soon found themselves face to face with an angry queen who made it all clear that if they did what they had done a second time, a lawsuit would be the least of their worries.

But, would said individual who had won the Cherry Blossom Princess's affections be able to withstand the scrutiny of the media? He – or she – would no doubt lack the resources Lady Lacus or the Lioness of Orb could bring to bear to discourage the determined to look elsewhere. On the vid-screen, Mana Shiranui smiled as she raised one hand, a signal to her stage crew to start the music, before kneeling and swinging the _wagasa_ in front of her.

**_"I dedicate this dance to the White Angel!"_**

Heine smiled, and raised his cup to the screen, both in salute to the dancer and to the person she had dedicated her performance to. He could almost hear the moans in the newsrooms throughout – and beyond – the Earth Sphere. Well played, the ochre-haired Bloodhawk Elite commander applauded inwardly, and well chosen.

**(O)**

**_ZAFT warship _****Minerva_, PLANT Aurelius military star-port, at that very moment_**

The _Minerva_ was the brainchild of TITAN Chief Engineers Albert Heckler and Jonathan Smith; a state-of-the-art battleship based off the designs of the Earth Alliance's _Archangel_-class warships and ZAFT's _Eternal_-class support ship. Sleek, heavily-armed and armoured, the gunmetal-grey and blue-trimmed warship could match the former in a straight fight and the latter in speed and manoeuvrability – and that was without the squadron of Mobile Suits the warship could carry in its hangar bays coming into the picture. Not only that, the _Minerva_ was capable of operating both in space and under an atmosphere. Impressed by what he saw, the Chairman of the PLANTs had commissioned three dozen such ships to be built over the next three years – an offer that pleased the directors of TITAN immensely.

But a warship could only be tested on the ground for which it was made, and the first of the _Goddess-_class ships to leave the TITAN shipyards at the PLANTs was selected – as were its crew and commander – to participate in the anti-terrorist operation that was due to begin in a few days. The commander of the _Minerva_, a thrice-decorated officer by the name of Talia Gladys, knew that a ship was only as good as its crew and had seen to it that those who had served under her during the War – and were willing to do so again – found a berth on the _Minerva_. It was her hope that their experience would rub off on the younger – and more inexperienced – members of her crew.

"Commander…?" a voice broke the female ZAFT officer out of her thoughts. Standing at the entrance to her quarters with a report in hand was the _Minerva_'s First Officer, Arthur Trine. The latter had a particularly annoyed look on his face, a clear indication to Talia that her subordinate had run into a problem that he could not solve without her help.

"Arthur? What is it?"

"We have some people from the TITAN R&D facility at the dock entrance, captain. They want to bring the Impulse and the ZAKU Warriors back to their facility."

Talia raised an eyebrow upon hearing that, "What? Why?"

"From what they're telling me, there seems to be a mix-up. Some of the components they had replaced on the ZAKU Warriors and the Impulse yesterday were meant for Commander Sinclair's Project Warlord (6). I asked them how they could have made such a mistake. They told me that it was due to a hacker penetrating their networks and making a mess of it some days back. TITAN's Consignment and Distribution Department was hit the hardest."

"A hacker managed to penetrate TITAN's networks? When did this happen?" Talia locked her fingers together.

"Some three days back, before we docked on Aurelius."

"Then wouldn't they have found out that their network had been compromised by then?" Talia asked.

"That was what I asked them and the facility's director, captain. The hacker made a mess, as I said before, but he did it in a way that made it hard to detect. He had randomly redistributed consignment serial numbers so that some shipments ended up where they shouldn't have. They only realized it this morning when some of the orders meant for several companies ended up in the hands of those who did not order said items."

Talia's eyes narrowed, "How did the hacker manage to penetrate the network?"

"Via the facility director's account," the gray-haired First Officer replied, "How the hacker had managed to get his hands on his password, which is changed on a daily basis, as well as his access card remain unknown. The company's security department is currently investigating the matter."

"That would explain the how, but not why. It is clear that this is not a random attack carried out by a disgruntled company employee. This was premeditated. Do they know the identity of the person who did it?"

"They're not sure, but there are people in TITAN's IT Department who believe that Falcon, a genius hacker in the pay of one of the anti-Coordinator groups, was responsible."

Talia did not speak for several minutes. She knew that whatever it was that Falcon had been looking for, he had found it. But what that was, the golden-haired ZAFT officer did not know. The ochre-haired commander of the _Minerva_ turned her attention back to her First Officer and asked him how long it would take the company to replace the components on two of her pilots' Mobile Suits.

"Four hours, at most. The Senior Engineer at the facility has promised to start changing the parts the minute the suits arrive on-site."

"Do it. And Arthur…?"

"Yes, captain?" the man paused in mid-turn.

"Tell Shinn Asuka and Rei to go to the facility as well. I want some of our people on-site to ensure that nothing…happens. And send in a squad of our marines as well."

The expression on the face of the _Minerva_'s First Officer became grim. The latter knew why his commander had given that order. It was known only to the ship's command echelon and a handful of crew members – and these had been handed a gag order – that one of the ship's engineers had been caught red-handed trying to sabotage both the ship and the next-generation Mobile Suits it was carrying. The fact that said individual had been one of Talia's former schoolmates and who had saved her life on more than one occasion during the War had made the betrayal all the more painful. Arthur remembered what the man had said in regards to the peace that had been won by the blood and tears of thousands. It was, the man had told his interrogators, a false peace – one that was doomed from the moment the leaders of the Earth Sphere considered the proposal presented to them by Lacus Clyne.

_"I do not deny that Lacus Clyne and her allies were moved by the very best of intentions when they raised arms to end the War, but all they have done was sowed the seeds of a greater one."_

Arthur shook his head to clear his thoughts, before nodding, "Understood, captain. Uh, do you have any idea where Lieutenant Rei is?"

"Oh, that girl is most likely at the range."

**X X X**

**_ZAFT warship Minerva, Gun Range room_**

_"Why must you go, father?"_

**_BLAM!_**

_"I go because I must, Rei. The command has been given and all who have sworn themselves to the Seven Thrones are to commit their warriors to the field. But more than our masters' wishes, I want to see how this story will end. Will the Earth Sphere be remade in the image of the underworld? Or will its protectors, outnumbered and battered, be able to prevent the apocalypse? More than the warriors of our masters' adversaries in the Great Game, it is they I see as the greatest threat."_

_"Are you talking about Lacus Clyne and the small army she has gathered around her? It is ridiculous to think that…"_

_"Lacus Clyne is a formidable adversary, more so than any I have ever faced. I had thought her to be nothing more than a debutante, but recent events have caused me to revise my opinion of her. The speed by which her so-called Clyne faction had mobilized after the theft of the Freedom and the number of ZAFT ships which had suddenly 'disappeared' and reported as MIA in the days after tells me that she and her father had planned everything well in advance. And here is something you may not have known: our masters' agents within the EA's Ministry of Defence had sent me a report some weeks back that several ships, most of which belonged to the _Grigori_ patrol fleet squadrons, had disappeared as well."_

_"Are you saying that…?"_

_"Lacus and Siegel Clyne had allies within the Earth Alliance? Indeed; but who they are, I do not know. Our masters' enemies have been adept at making sure I hit a dead end in my investigations. But this is no time to worry about them…"_

**_BLAM!_**

_"Why so?"_

**_BLAM!_**

_"Because I have found that which will bring the Unification Project a step closer to completion and seen to it that at least three of the Thrones of the Sacred Beasts will be occupied by those more worthy than those noble-born fops who warm its seats."_

_"You have managed to find three of the Chosen, father?"_

**_BLAM!_**

_"Yes, I have. And while I am fully aware that my choices will be met with considerable resistance from certain groups within the Order, I am confident that our masters and the 12 Apostles will approve of them. After all, the Old Earth saying that birds of a feather flock together and can recognize one another is all too true in this instance. Do you remember the girl you had met weeks ago in the cafeteria? The one with red hair and gray eyes…?"_

**_BLAM!_**

_"Yes."_

_"That was the Phoenix."_

_"That girl is the Phoenix? I find that hard to believe. From what I can tell, she has more in common with the debutantes of the noble Houses of Albion than the military. Had you told me that you had chosen the Silver Princess of Kalxath, the daughter of the King of Orb or even the General of EA-Japan's Northern Army Group to be one of the Ten, I would not have questioned your choice. But her…?"_

**_BLAM!_**

_"Indeed, there **ARE** better candidates than Fllay Allster, Rei. But the reason why I have chosen her to be the Phoenix is simple: she has nothing. What little she has will be taken by her father's enemies, and the rest will be devoured by the flames of war. Lastly, and most importantly, she is known to one Sacred Beast and loved by another, neither of whom will wish to see her harmed in any way. And yes, I agree with you that, as she is now, she is unworthy of the Phoenix Throne. But give her time. She has potential to be the equal of Kalxath's Silver Princess."_

**_BLAM!_**

_"That remains to be seen. Do you know the identities of the other two Sacred Beasts?"_

_"Yes, I do. The one I have chosen to be the Tiger of Heaven is none other than the grand-daughter of the Badgiruel family's current Head and the former First Officer of the _Archangel, _Natarle Badgiruel. Yes, I am talking about the same Badgiruel family that had helped build the Earth Alliance into the powerful coalition that it is today and had once, long ago, helped to build the Solar Empire and, after the Sundering of Thrones civil war, the Imperial Dominion. A scion of the Badgiruel family on the throne of the Heavenly Tiger would do much to advance the Unification Project. There is, however, one problem: the daughter of Patrick Badgiruel (7) will not be so easy to turn. She is loyal to the core. She cannot be bought or coerced. No, she must be persuaded."_

_"And how are you going to do that?"_

_ "I need not do anything. She is starting to see that the war she has been fighting so hard to help end has nothing to do with reunifying the Earth Sphere and everything to do with the intolerance and arrogance of lesser men and women who have too much power and too little wisdom. That one of my pawns, the Director of the ANDC and a high-ranking Blue Cosmos leader, Murata Azrael, has assigned himself and his toy soldiers to her ship, the _Dominion_, will serve only to fan the embers of her fury."_

**_BLAM!_**

_"And who is the second Sacred Beast?"_

_"…."_

_"Father…? Why are you smiling?"_

_"If you have been reading the intelligence reports our masters' agents have been sending us and listening to what the soldiers have been talking about, you would already know who it is. But as you have been doing some…errands on my behalf, I'll fill you in. I should warn you, though, that it will lend credence to the old Earth saying about the Fates having a sick sense of humour. The one I chose to be the Lion of Heaven is none other than the son of the man who 'created' me and the one to whom Lacus Clyne has entrusted her foolish dream of a unified Earth Sphere to."_

**_BLAM!_**

_"The White Angel is that man's son? Didn't he and his family…?"_

_"Die sixteen years ago? I thought so, too. The assassins I had had the leaders of the Blue Cosmos send were among the finest they had, each of them a veteran of a dozen such assignments. When none of them returned from the mission, my initial assumption was that my esteemed creator's bodyguards were better than I originally thought. After all, he has the resources to call upon the services of any of the Solar System's top-listed professional security companies. I was wrong. I would find out – long after it ceased to matter – that our masters had intervened. I suppose my hatred and contempt for humanity and my desire to see the race you and I were made in the image of be made extinct had made me embarrassingly predictable." _

_ "But why would they…?"_

_"Save him? Simple: they needed him. Ulen Hibiki is a scientist whose daring, knowledge and vision has few equals in the Solar System. You may not know of this, but much of the material that is now required reading in the Institute of Genetic Research and Development were a result of his years of study and research. And all of it was for the sake of that that would be his crowning achievement: the Ultimate Coordinator Project. You already know the flaws inherent in the Coordinator race. In exchange for surpassing their Natural cousins in every way, their ability to have children would diminish. The Project would make perfect the dream humanity had worked tirelessly through the ages to make real."_

_"And for the sake of a dream, many lives were lost."_

_"Yes. But the Project was successful, Rei – and the White Angel was the only successful outcome of the entire Project."_

_"What…? You cannot mean…"_

**_BLAM!_**

_"Yes, Rei, he did. Seventeen years ago, Ulen Hibiki had put both his children inside the Artificial Life-Support Chamber and subjected them to the processes that would turn them into _Homo Sapiens Solaris. _And as I told you earlier, only his son would complete the apotheosis. His daughter, he removed in the second month when it became clear that she was not strong enough to go beyond the third stage and returned her to his wife's womb. I do not doubt that she was, in some way, changed. No one born of that crucible leaves it unchanged…"_

_"Why did those in power do nothing to stop him? What Ulen Hibiki did was clearly against the law!"_

_"Why would they? They were all too aware of what they stood to gain should my creator succeed in his endeavours. As such, they had little patience for any who stood in their way. Oh, there were those who tried. My creator's wife and her relatives, for one, tried to have the authorities put a stop to the Project. But you already know how that ended…"_

**_BLAM!_**

_"…are you going to try to turn him?"_

_"Yes. But it will not be easy. Like the Tiger, the Lion is loyal to the cause and the flag he swore himself to. As such, the likelihood of our coming to blows is high. And the fact that our esteemed Chairman, knowing that Lacus Clyne to be a greater enemy than the EA fleets that are gathering at the moon, will be delegating teams to make an end of her, will make a confrontation with the White Angel all the more likely."_

_"I take it that this was…unexpected."_

_ "As was his second order. He wants the White Angel captured."_

**_BLAM!_**

_"What…? Why?"_

_"I do not know, but I believe that the Chairman knows about the Ultimate Coordinator Project and wants the only successful subject to be dissected in his labs. Who has given him the information, I do not know, but I will make sure that the individual responsible pays dearly for crossing me. Rei – these are my instructions: in the event I fail to turn the Lion or fall in battle, you must finish what I started. And fear not – you shall not be alone in this endeavour or lack the resources to see it done." _

_ "But what if the Lion is the one who is slain? What if he is captured by the Chairman?"_

_"If he dies, then so be it. It would be a far more merciful fate than the one that awaits him should he live. But if Chairman Zala gets his hands on the Lion, you are to break him free and bring him to the Himmel. Do whatever is necessary, Rei." _

_"I understand, father. What is his name?"_

**_BLAM!_**

_"Kira Yamato."_

**_BLAM!_**

Rei Za Barrel, daughter of Rau le Creuset, drew in a deep breath and lowered her handgun. A brief look at the target board told the voluptuous, blonde-haired Coordinator that she had not done as well as she had hoped. Though outwardly calm, the young woman's mind was full of questions that had no easy answers. The first of said questions pertained as to how she could fulfil her late father's wish as Kira Yamato was already in Valhalla. The second question was linked to the first: how could she avenge her sire when said individual – the same one her father had wanted to enthrone as one of the Ten – had already crossed the River Styx mere hours later? Did she even want to?

Having spoken to those who had known the White Angel, Rei had found it hard to hate her father's killer. Shy and unassuming, gentle and kind, the brown-haired Coordinator did not fit the image that many within and outside the Earth Sphere had had of him. He had more in common with the bookstore owner whose shop the blonde girl frequented on a regular basis than the soldiers and pilots who frequented the nightclubs several streets down. But the terrible strength that had broken the blades of the thousands that had fought in the Solomon Sea and which had brought peace to the Earth Sphere had been real. Rei's squadron commander, Heine Westenfluss, and her team-mate, Lunamaria Hawke, had faced the White Angel in battle. Both had been soundly defeated.

_"Ulen Hibiki's towering ambition and arrogance had created not a demigod with the cold heart of a blade and the aspiration of a conqueror, but a hero by whose hands the Empire that another had brought low with sword and flame would be resurrected…"_

The blonde-haired girl raised her gun once more. There would be others, she knew, whose vision and strength would be able to restore that which was lost because of the greed and arrogance of the faithless. Kira Yamato had given his life so that the Earth Sphere would have a second chance – and even this was being squandered away by those whose agendas had nearly brought an entire region of space into the cold embrace of the Ashen King. Indeed, the fact that the White Angel had died was a mercy. He would never live to see the fate that was to befall the Earth Sphere. Lacus Clyne's dream of a unified Earth Sphere was doomed. Powers greater and older than her had decreed that the ancient throne-world of two of humanity's mightiest star-spanning republics was to burn in an inferno hotter than any that had engulfed it in the ten centuries since the fall of the Imperial Dominion.

But said powers had decreed that before the sword hanging over the sinners of the Earth Sphere was brought down, the final chapters of the first and the entirety of the second act needed to be played out. She remembered what she had read in the Bible, a quote that bespoke of the days to come, and she shivered. The Word of God had, for time immemorial, promised victory to the righteous and justice to the wronged. But what she had seen in her dream was the very opposite. She had seen Aden in flames, its proud defenders lying bloody and broken in the streets, their strength and skill unable to turn back an enemy that had waited long centuries to visit its wrath upon the White City. She saw the Lord Archangel of the Holy Host clash with a Throne Guard Centurion, the former's majestic flaming sword colliding with earthshaking force against the ornate, rune-engraved blade of the latter. She saw the vast field of flowers whose petals had seen the Springtime of Creation and were nurtured by the hands of the Order's Supreme Lord reduced to a charred wreck of a nightmare. Worst of all she had seen in the phantasmagorical dreamscape was the chilling image of her facing down the man her father had trusted and had considered a friend. It did not help matters that the voice of one of the Apostles had echoed in said dream, telling her that what she beheld was something that would come to pass. (4)

The blonde-haired girl shook her head. What she had seen in her dream would not happen. She would not allow it to happen. Rei would sooner burn in the lowest levels of the Pit before she turned her blade on the one person in Creation who had the strength and the vision to make an end of the cruel game their masters had been playing for centuries. It was by no means an easy task. But should Rei's guardian and patron succeed in his endeavours, everything that the blonder-haired girl had prayed and hoped for would come true. There would be no more children sacrificed on the altars of war and progress at the behest of men and women whose ambitions far surpassed their wisdom. There would be no more Reclamation Crusades, Solar and Bloody Valentine Wars. Let the evils that had tormented humanity across the ages be imprisoned once more in the box from whence they came. Let the anguished scream the blonde-haired girl had heard and the fury she had seen unleashed two years ago in the Solomon Sea become a memory.

It was for all of this that Rei Za Barrel would lay down her life. Let the war that was to come be the last. Let her live long enough to see the world her guardian had told her of. Let Kira Yamato rest in Paradise knowing that the world he had died hoping to see would come after this final conflagration. Let the daughter of an insane, vengeful rebel angel take up the mantle of a slain hero and undo all the wrong her father had done in his madness, and be forgiven her sins.

"Amen," Rei whispered as she fired her gun.

**(O)**

**_Twin to Lilith, she who is Naamah,_**

**_Golden hair to her twin's crimson, light blue to her grey,_**

**_Her allegiance wavers._**

**_Torn is she, this false angel, between the Serpent Emperor and the_**

**_One chosen to be the Lion Lord;_**

**_The wheels of destiny turn inexorably,_**

**_As a chapter in the Great Work of the Almighty,_**

**_Reaches its final act_**

**(O)**

**_Warlord- class Heavy Carrier Girty Lue, 81st Independent Mobile Assault Battalion_**

**_ PLANT Aurelius airspace, L-4 region, at that very moment…_**

The _Girty Lue_ was one of the six _Warlord-_class heavy carriers constructed by Chief Engineer Abdullah al-Saud of LOGOS under its top-secret Damocles Project. It combined the prow and launch bays of the EA's premier _Archangel_-class battleship with the hull of the old Earth Defence League's _Westmarch_-class destroyer. Heavily-armed and armoured, the heavy carrier was capable of sinking an _Agamemnon-_class warship with but a single volley of its main guns. But the man who had commissioned the construction of the _Girty Lue_ and its sister ships had not intended them to be made into the Earth Alliance's newest ship of the line. He had wanted them as the chariots that would bring the wrath of the righteous down on the heads of those whose ideas and existence were a threat to the future Princes of the resurrected Solar Empire. And such a judgment was best delivered if its agents could not be seen.

Each of the _Warlord_-class heavy carriers was equipped with a Mirage Colloid cloaking array, a device that was all but outlawed under the conditions of the Junius-7 Treaty. The device could render a ship or an MS invisible to both sight and sensor array, giving both ship commander and MS pilot considerable advantage in both combat and covert operations. It was this that Christopher Valiant, commander of the 81st Independent Mobile Assault Battalion, was thankful for as his ship deployed magnetic clamps and docked alongside one of the PLANT's airlocks. Said airlock led to the seedier side of the colony, where agents loyal to Christopher's superiors had literally set up shop. Their posing as one of the PLANT's major waste disposal and recycling companies had been an excellent – if not somewhat demeaning – cover, as it allowed them access to virtually every building and facility, military or otherwise, on the colony.

The covert ops team on PLANT Aurelius was but one of many spread throughout the Earth Sphere. It was because of them – and the master hacker, Falcon, in particular – that Christopher's superiors knew what the enemy was capable of, and had prepared countermeasures for when they launched the war to bring the rebellious PLANTs back under the rule of the Earth Alliance. Christopher and his fellow Phantom Pain commanders believed in the Earth Alliance credo of strength being attained through unity. The PLANTs' decision to remain separate from the rest of the Earth Sphere was something that could not – would not – be tolerated. Especially not with the war between the Reyguard Empire and the Independent Martian States – or the Coalition, as it was commonly known – slowly tipping in the favour of the former. Analysts within the EA Ministry of War's think-tank estimated that the Earth Sphere had about five years before the Empire defeated the Coalition. Less, if one took into account the fact that the immensely powerful and technologically-advanced Kingdom of Lordaeron was contemplating committing its legions to the fray.

If this was true, then time was a luxury that the powers that be on Earth did not have. The doves within the Earth Alliance Senate would most certainly attempt to avert the inevitable crisis with diplomacy, but the hawks knew that force was the only way to persuade the Empire to offer terms when the dust settled. The Kaiser of the Reyguard Empire and his generals could not be convinced any other way; the citizens of the Empire had neither forgotten nor forgiven the humiliation that the Earth Defence League, the predecessor of the Earth Alliance, had dealt them over a century ago during the Fourth Solar War. Christopher had seen documentaries of the fateful strike that had ended the Solar War. Had one daring pilot not penetrated deep into the ship and killed the current Kaiser's grandfather, there would be no doubt in anyone's mind that the Earth Sphere would already be a vassal state of the Empire. Not that that would be a bad thing, Christopher thought as he ordered his communications officer to open a secure line to Falcon. The Bloody Valentine War and the Secession of the PLANTs would never have happened. The auburn-haired officer's peer, Commander Sheba Ibn Ibrahim, who led the all-female 82nd Independent Mobile Assault Battalion _Elohim_ Corps (8), had told him in the aftermath of the meeting that saw to their deployment that the decision to re-ignite the inferno of the Bloody Valentine War was motivated more by pride and profit rather than any desire to unite the Earth Sphere.

The Junius-7 Peace Treaty had not only been a slap across the faces of the hardliners on Earth and the PLANTs. It had also been a shot across the bows of their respective allies, all of whom – regardless of whether or not they lived within the Earth Sphere – were responsible for bringing the Bloody Valentine War to the bloody, berserk heights that reminded many of the War of Wrath. Christopher shivered; the dream he had had several days prior was one that had left the man shaken to the core.

He had seen himself in a badly-battered battle-cruiser high above Tokyo-3, the fortress-city constructed by the Earth Defence League some twelve years before the Fourth Solar War erupted. A formidable stronghold, it boasted a defensive network that surpassed those of the Atlantic Federation's newly-constructed headquarters in Iceland or the European Union's Volgograd Base. When the Reyguard Empire launched an attack on Tokyo-3 during the Solar War, it had lost almost two entire battle-groups in the ensuing carnage. The EDL battalions stationed in the city had suffered heavy casualties but had emerged from the clash in considerably better shape than their adversaries. But Fate would not be so merciful to their fellows who would, a century later, stand against the armies of the Empire of the Rising Sun. (4) The rulers of the Shogunate, second only to the Kingdom of Lordaeron in technological prowess and the equal of the Atlantic Federation in military strength, had for a long time desired the return of its ancient demesne on Earth, something their relatives within the Japanese Imperial Palace and the EA government were reluctant to grant for reasons known only to them. Christopher's superiors knew that should the current Shogunate Emperor make an attempt to retake Japan, he would have the support of Reyguard's current Kaiser (9). As such, negotiations were being undertaken between the EA and the Empire of the Rising Sun to avert any possibility of a joint invasion of Earth.

"Communications established, commander," the voice of Christopher's communications officer broke the man out of his thoughts, "Channel secured."

The auburn-haired officer looked up at the main screen, and nodded a greeting to the young hacker he had spoken to hours ago. The latter was wearing a jacket over a white t-shirt, and was clearly in the hotel room he and his bodyguard – and Christopher could tell she was more than that – occupied. The latter sat on the bed behind Falcon, the scandalously low-cut dress and sultry smile reminding the Phantom Pain officer of a predator on the prowl.

"Falcon, I want you and Serpent," he glanced at the hacker's sensuous guardian, "off PLANT Aurelius by 1400 hours. Operation Shadow Mist (10) will begin in three hours, and there is a high probability that the colony will become a battleground."

"Way ahead of you, commander," the young man replied, "We have booked a flight back to Earth."

"Where to…?" Christopher asked.

"Vladivostok, Russia. Your bosses have another job for me."

Christopher raised an eyebrow, "Does this job have anything to do with that ZAFT Commander's project?"

"No. The top brass are not the least bit concerned about it. They said that a new type of warship is unlikely to turn the tide of the war. But, you know what they say: prevention is better than cure. I've gotten Adel and his team to dig deeper into Project Warlord. There **_HAS_** to be something more to that ship. Otherwise, why would ZAFT construct a ship that they could easily purchase from the Reyguard Empire?"

The auburn-haired Phantom Pain officer had to concede the point. There was a high chance that the _Iron Duke_-class warship that was being constructed at one of ZAFT's shipyards would sport prototype weapon and defensive arrays far more advanced that the ones already in use. That the Stormlord (11), a thrice-decorated soldier in the Central Asian theatre and who had helped ZAFT's Hydra turn a well-planned, multi-pronged assault into a bloody rout, was placed in charge of Project Warlord only served to make Christopher nervous.

"Make sure Adel and his people don't do anything stupid. The last thing you want to do is have the Stormlord on your ass. And by the way, what is it that the top spooks want you to do?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Care to share…?"

Falcon exchanged a brief look with his companion before replying with a grin, "Our bosses will not be happy, but what the hell. I owe both you and the guys and girls on the _Girty Lue_. The least I can do is make sure you are in the loop. But remember, nobody," the young man emphasised the word, "heard this from me. If someone lets the cat out of the bag, I'll know, and I'll have the captain make sure you disappear."

Christopher rolled his eyes, and chuckled, "Drama queen."

"Captain, we're in the business that makes the spy serials look good," Falcon's voice was barely audible above the laughter that rocked the _Girty Lue_'s bridge, "A little drama never hurt anyone."

**(O)**

**_PLANT Aurelius, Asahina Restaurant, twenty minutes later…_**

Sting Oakley stared at the bill in his hands, his mind refusing to accept what his eyes were seeing. He turned slowly to look at his subordinates, both of whom had the courtesy to look embarrassed. He knew it had been a long time since any of them had shore leave. He knew it had been a long time since they had had a decent meal. And he knew that letting Stellar and Auel out of his sight, particularly when given the chance to indulge in food, had been a colossal error on his part. Now, he had to pay the price – literally. Auel and Stellar had gone through much of the Asahina Restaurant's delectable – and very expensive – menu like a forest fire.

How in God's green earth did Stellar and Auel eat this much? It would have taken six men – all hungry and with considerable gastrointestinal fortitude – to do what they had done. The manager of the restaurant had a grin that would have made Satan proud. The green-haired young man let out a long breath; he knew he would have a lot of explaining to do later. Sting pulled a wallet out of his coat before handing the restaurant's manager the amount printed on the bill.

"Much obliged, sir," the man said as he returned to the counter. Sting led his two colleagues out of the restaurant before turning and putting a hand on Auel's head. The azure-haired young man started sweating bullets when he saw the insane, maniacal grin on his elder brother's face.

"I take it that your taking Stellar to this high-class restaurant was your idea, Auel?"

"Well…"

"I take that as a yes," Sting's grin broadened and his grip on Auel's head tightened, "You are going to be in so much trouble when we get back home, Auel. I did say that you and Stellar could have fun. I did **NOT** say to go overboard. Nor did I say you could clean out an entire restaurant. Stellar…" the blonde-haired girl next to Auel squeaked, "you are so grounded. But for now, we have work to do. Our dad has called. He said that he would be working overtime and that he will be bringing several friends over. He wants us to pick up dinner for them."

The expressions on the faces of both Auel and Stellar became cold and serious. The latter was the first to break the grim silence, "What time did papa say he was coming home?"

"Ten tonight," Sting replied.

"We'd better get started, then. We have three hours to prepare," Auel's voice was low, so that only his two siblings could hear him, "How many friends is father bringing home with him?"

"At least a dozen," Sting replied, "Oh, and before I forget, dad has asked us to go to the market. He wants us to pick up some things for him. And Stellar, dad told me to tell you to not burn up the kitchen a second time. The last time you did, he had a lot to answer for."

"Stellar promises she won't burn the kitchen. And, just so big brother Sting knows, Stellar asked Auel to bring Stellar to the Asahina Restaurant. It was where Stellar's big brother went to with his teacher back when he was studying on Heliopolis and where our family will gather many years from now. Stellar wanted to know the reason why Stellar's family chooses to gather here every year. And now, Stellar knows. The food here is good."

Auel and Sting exchanged puzzled looks. Both Phantom Pain operatives knew that their blonde-haired peer was odd, to say the least, but her recent behaviour had been nothing short of unsettling. The jury was still out on whether her current personality, which was considerably more stable than before, was better than the fragile, almost childlike, one that they were used to. Everyone on board the _Girty Lue_ hoped that this change was not a prelude to a complete psychological breakdown. Everyone knew what happened to those that lacked the mental fortitude to endure what was demanded of them. Death was a mercy many of their friends had begged for in their last moments of sanity and did not receive.

"Are the two of you thinking about what happened to Merissa and Taylor?" Stellar asked. The question – and the tone in which it was spoken – caused both Sting and Auel to turn to face their compatriot. And what they saw caused their thought processes to come to a screeching halt. Though both Extended would swear that what they had seen in that brief instant was due to the drugs they had imbibed prior to their infiltrating PLANT Aurelius, something deep inside told them that what they beheld was real.

Their youngest companion was no longer a teenage girl clad in a blue and white dress, but a woman clad in an ornate, if not scandalous, suit of golden armour adorned with sigils and emblems of one of the twelve Zodiac constellations. Her long golden hair was bound by a horned circlet, and a white cloak, edged in gold hung from her shoulders. Resting on one shoulder was a silver blade whose deathly beauty was a blasphemous contrast to the blessed armour its wielder wore. The Solar was looking at her peers through the corner of her eyes, the fierce intensity in them at odds with the dreamy smile on her lips.

"Fear not," the female Gold Saint spoke, as she turned her gaze on the eagle that soared high overhead, its shrill cry a declaration to Creation that a war that had ended a millennia ago was about to begin anew, and that the players who would fight in it were being summoned to the field, "Though few of us will live to see it, we who were made to be humanity's unbroken blades will be the ones who will pave the road to a new era."

**(O)**

**_The First Trumpet that is blown heralds the gathering of the Ten._**

**_The Second, when it is blown, marks the Chosen of the Ten, their champions and generals elect._**

**_And among these, for he chosen to be the Lion Lord,_**

**_12 High Priestesses of Gold, maidens of the Zodiac;_**

**_With them, come the legions of the Unbroken Blades. _**

**(O)**

**_Colony New Gallia airspace,_**

**_On a ship bound for Neo-Troy_**…

The dusty-skinned young woman looked down at that which her mother had told her would be delivered to her room when her ship docked at the independent colony of New Gallia. She had seen it before as her mother had one in their home on Janurarius. The object before her was a stasis casket. Six and a half feet in length, three feet in width and depth, the casket was crafted out of adamantium mined on the resource satellites of the Kingdom of Palse and adorned with the double-headed eagle and crossed thunderbolts emblem of the Reyguard Empire. Arabic script lined the edges of the casket in gleaming electrum, a prayer that had endured through ten thousand years of war and strife. The young woman read what was written there: '_God is great. By His Will and by the hands of his sons and daughters, shall a divided humanity be made one once more.' _

The young woman ran a hand over its smooth surface before placing a hand over the gene-reader that kept the casket sealed. A glowing mandala surrounded her hand for a full minute before fading away, and a man's voice, deep and strong, echoed in the confines of the room: **_"Genetic markers confirmed. You are who you claim to be, Ryoki Housen, daughter of Ryofu Housen. Seals will unlock in t-minus ten seconds. All is as God wills it."_**

There was a hiss as the catches within the casket unlocked and the plates slid back one after another. Cold, freezing mists erupted from the casket's interiors in a fierce gust of wind that sent the young woman's hip-length silver hair fluttering. When it cleared, the daughter of ZAFT's Bloody Empress found herself gazing upon a magnificent suit of armour modelled after that which was worn by the late wife of Reyguard's Kaiser, Yvonne von Wolfkrone, during the War of Princes (12): the Anubis Armour. Jet black and lined in gold and gleaming platinum, the rubies set in its gauntlets and knee-guards glowing with the power of one of Creation's elemental forces, it was a thing of beauty. Ryoki Housen reached into the casket and withdrew a war-scythe from its confines. The weapon was an artisan's dream made real. Its long gleaming haft was of a metal mined from beyond the furthest reaches of the Solar System, and its head was fashioned in the image of the jackal-headed deity that ruled over the Egyptian underworld. Its ears tapered to lethal sharpness that had tasted the blood of heroes and champions.

A word from the young woman's lips saw to those adamantium-edged ears turn to icy blue and the air about it to shimmer with the promise of inevitable death. The daughter of the Bloody Empress gave the weapon a practice swing, and smiled in satisfaction.

"What shall I call you…?" the young woman asked the weapon. An answer was given to her by the picture that rested on the nearby marble table. A young man clad in traditional Japanese martial garments stood beside the girl she had been two years ago as well as his stepsiblings. The picture was something she prized above the medals and trophies she had acquired in her two years fighting the armies of the Earth Alliance. It was a reminder of a home she could return to. Ryoki smiled at the thought of meeting her schoolmate (and childhood friend) once more and testing her skills, tempered in the crucible of a war, against his. The young woman remembered the sight of her friend fighting against their teacher, the latter whom she and her mother had met on the battlefields of Central Asia. That memory made the girl frown. Why had their teacher, a Coordinator like her, chosen to side with the EA? After having seen and experienced the persecution their kind had endured for over half a century, what reason could she have to remain loyal to murderers who thought nothing of condemning a quarter million souls to death?

Her mother had given her a simple answer: honour. Kanu Unchou was the sworn sibling – one of two – of Field Marshall Ryubi Gentoku, who commanded EA-Japan's Northern Army group and the 11th EA Flotilla. The Snow Tiger Brigade her teacher led was replete with Coordinators who had, like their commander, remained steadfast in their loyalty to the EA. No, Ryoki corrected herself. The soldiers and pilots of the Snow Tiger Brigade were steadfast in their loyalty to their commander and the regimental banner they fought under. There was not one soul who would cross the line no matter what the Hydra offered. Ryoki's mother had made fun of the latter when many of his planned defections ended up with their own people switching sides.

_"Our teacher is not an idiot, Ryoki. She is all too aware that her decision to be loyal to the EA would mean that she – as well as those she commands – will be branded as traitors and renegades by the PLANTs. And if she and her brigade had defected to the PLANTs or, God forbid, deserted, the EA would do the same. We have been Kanu-sensei's students for over ten years, Ryoki. You know what she is like. Everything we are is because of her guidance. Tell me, Ryoki – if you were in her shoes, what would you have done?"_

"I would have stayed by your side…" Ryoki whispered to the young man who waited for her on the colony she had left two years ago. The silver-haired girl swung her war-scythe onto her shoulder, remembering the dream she had had weeks ago. She had been standing amidst the burning city of Moscow, capital of EA-Russia. The Kremlin, the enormous building that was the heart of the country's administration, was in ruins and ablaze. And standing amidst the fire and the fury of that towering inferno, was the man her schoolmate would become. He had been clad in the ornate battle-armour of the Kingdom of Lordaeron's elite Throne Guard and held in one armoured hand the signature weapon of that fearsome warrior order. And he was not alone. He was accompanied by a squad of heavily-armed and armoured shock troopers and an XV-88 _Crisis_-class Battle-suit, the latter of which ZAFT was trying to purchase from Albion so as to better improve the fighting capabilities of its earthbound forces. One of the troopers, Ryoki saw, held in his armoured hands a white-and-gold flag bearing the colours of the Kingdom of Lordaeron, and this he raised high. The meaning of the gesture was clear to all that beheld it. The strongest of Earth's 12 Hierarchical Cities (14) next to New Beijing had fallen to its enemies. The silver-haired girl had heard a roar of triumph shake the city, a sound that was the birthing cry of a new era. She had seen her cousin standing amidst a group of silver-haired and golden-eyed men and women bearing massive, blood-drenched claymores. She had seen herself amongst power-suited Reyguard Empire shock troops, standing amidst the corpses of EA soldiers and burning tanks. She had watched as ash fell like snow from the sky, a prayer by a grieving God for the living, the dead and the one who would be King.

The mental images that took shape in the silver-haired girl's mind made her grin libidinously. Yes, there were many, many privileges with being King – and Ryoki and her cousin intended to make sure their childhood friend would enjoy each and every one. They would never give him a chance to say no. And when they were through with him, he would never want to. Ryoki turned to the weapon resting on her shoulder, and ran an affectionate thumb. She knew what to call it now.

"I think I will call you Ashbringer." (13)

**(O)**

**_Ramilies-class star-fort Castle Krieger, Mars-Jupiter frontier_**

**_Demesne of the Ashen King, Kingdom of Lordaeron,_**

**_Mess Hall, at that very moment_**

_"I bear tidings both grim and joyous, brothers and sisters. The Olympian Pact, which will bind our glorious Kingdom to that of the Empire of Reyguard, has been sealed. We are bound in common purpose, brothers and sisters – and the name of that purpose is unity. As of this moment, we are at war with the Coalition. Orders have come from the Lord Archangel and our Lord Prince's father. The soldiers and pilots of the Thanatos Legion are to prepare themselves for immediate deployment to the Syrtis Planitia theatre. There, you will join the 4th and 6th Army Groups of the Morrigan Legion as well as the Silver Skulls Knightly Order to support the Imperial Army units who are locked in combat with the armies of the Coalition._

_"You will not go alone. I have received a message from our Lord Prince's aide that an Imperial Conqueror Fleet is due to arrive here any time now. They have been redirected from pacifying the Salacian (18) Rebel Confederation within the Uranus Region to Mars."_

The pink-haired girl allowed the words spoken by the Castellan of Castle Krieger, whose armoured form was displayed on the enormous vid-screen overlooking the enormous mess hall, to sink in. She and her peers had long known that it was only a matter of time before the Kingdom of Lordaeron joined the Reyguard Empire in its war to bring the Coalition – which consisted of powerful countries that refused to submit to either power – to its knees. For years now, both countries had waged their own independent campaigns against the Coalition and there had been times when its armies had clashed in order to lay claim to ground that would allow them to better persecute their war against what should have been a common enemy. The young woman was aware that the Coalition's commanders dreaded the day when the Kingdom of Lordaeron and the Empire became allies. One superpower it could handle; two was a nightmare waiting to happen – especially if the second superpower entering the fray possessed technology decades ahead of every country in the Solar System.

But the Coalition's strategists had long been prepared for such an eventuality. During the early years of the Conqueror War (15), in order to be able to fight a superior adversary on even ground, the Coalition adopted a defensive-blitzkrieg approach that ensured that its armies were capable of responding to any threat in the shortest possible time with as much battlefield support as could be given. The young woman knew that a majority of the Coalition bases boasted multiple artillery and tactical missile launcher installations that would allow its field commanders to call upon long-range support whenever they needed it. It was this strategy that had allowed the Coalition to match the Empire's fearsome military blow for blow across a hundred battlefields. There was no doubt in the former mercenary's mind that it would be just as effective against the Templar Legions of Lordaeron.

Vicious as those battles were, none of them could be compared to the unseen war that was fought in the cities and colonies across the Solar System. The Empire's Brotherhood of Nod (16), its premier intelligence and counter-insurgency, fought against those who were a threat to its Kaiser's dream of unification. The young woman was a casualty of that war. She had been three years old when her beautiful mother had been killed, when unknown warring factions (17) made her an orphan. That night had been one she would never forget, one nightmare amongst the many she had endured. One day, one way or another, the nightmares would end. But how, she did not know. The dream she had had days ago, sleeping nude under warm sheets, her azure eyes running hungrily over the lean, strong silhouette of a young man whose violet eyes blazed with tender love and fierce lust, was one she hoped she would live to see. It promised a future where the sins of her past would be forgiven. She had been everything the hardliners within the Church would see burnt at the stake. Even now, there were Inquisitors who viewed the Ashen King's intervention all those months ago during the Games as a mistake. None would dare say it aloud, of course, as doing so would bring the attention of the Horseman and his wife upon the objector. Her thoughts were interrupted as the Castellan of Castle Krieger continued his speech.

_"I will not lie to you, brothers and sisters. The days to come will be hard ones. All of you know that the Coalition has slowly been gaining ground and that the losses suffered by the Imperial Army have been growing by the day. But the reason as to their defeats has not been clear until now._

_"All of you may have heard rumours that the Coalition has just recently completed a new super-weapon that would allow them to turn the tide of the war. I regret to inform you that those rumours are true. The Coalition **HAS** developed a strategic artillery platform capable of striking at any of our or the Empire's base within a thousand kilometre radius. These platforms, code-named Mavors, are capable of delivering a warhead that can punch through a base's protective shields and destroy – or at the very least, severely damage – everything within a ten-block radius. What's worse is that our enemy has not one but four such weapons – and these are strategically positioned within the Hesperia Planum, Isidis Planitia and Protonilus Mensae regions of Mars."_

The young woman grimaced. She knew without needing to refer to the holographic map in her palm-top that the manner in which the Coalition had positioned its newest super-weapons had effectively checked the Imperial advance, while giving its commanders the ability to break the Empire's battle-lines wide open and end battles before it can even begin. The pink-haired young woman exchanged looks with her squadron mates. They nodded. There was no doubt as to what the objectives of the vanguard Legions were. They were to disable at least one, if not all four, of the Coalition's newest super-weapons – a task which was by no means easy. The Thanatos Legion was, out of the seven Legions commanded by the Ashen King's eldest son, built upon the doctrine of striking an enemy fast and hard. As such, Assault Suits and Knightmare Frames squadrons formed a greater part of the Thanatos Legion's force organization. If the Thanatos Legion had one weakness, it was that it lacked the Mobile Heavy Artillery units that its sister Legions could field – something they would most certainly need if they were to storm the Coalition strongholds where the Mavors were located.

_"The mission of the Thanatos Legion as well as those of the 4th and 6th Army Group regiments of the Morrigan Legion and the Silver Skulls Knightly Order is simple: end the threat of the Mavors. If we are to unite Mars, then the threat of the Coalition's premier super-weapons must be nullified."_

**X X X**

**_Empire of Reyguard Conqueror Fleet Dragon Knight_**

**_Conqueror Fleet flagship, Rhadamantine _**

**_En route to Castle Krieger_**

**_At that very moment_**

The Conqueror Fleet Dragon Knight had originally been part of a much larger Conqueror Fleet that had been dispatched from the Empire's main fortress-colony clusters at Saturn to quash the Salacian Rebel Confederation. The latter consisted of groups of Neptunian, Jupiterian and Uranian rebels who refused to submit to the Iron Throne. Most of the rebels were former soldiers and dissidents who wanted nothing more than to see their home-worlds freed from Imperial rule. Others were criminals and terrorists who had bounties on their heads and who found their skills in demand by the leaders of the rebel group. Once nothing more than a minor nuisance that could be contained by the regional authorities, their recent exploits had earned them the attention of the Empire's representative in the region. The latter made a request to his superior in the Imperial Capital, and the order to dispatch a Conqueror Fleet to help stabilize the region came weeks later.

Most of the inhabitants of that region viewed the deployment of a Conqueror Fleet with no small amount of unease, and blamed their would-be freedom fighters for arousing the ire of their overlords. The Reyguard Empire may be a stern master, but it had been a fair one. Colony-states that had been struggling for years and who opted to be part of the Empire soon found their problems disappearing one by one. Even those countries that had been forcefully annexed into the Empire soon found that the good outweighed the bad. But no matter how fair a master one had or how much he or she gave, there would be those who wanted more, who wanted to right the wrongs done to them. And these would use means both fair and foul in order to achieve their goals. The commander of the redirected Dragon Knight Conqueror Fleet knew that the Salacian Rebel Confederation (18) insurgents would use the arriving fleet as proof that the Empire was tightening its grip on its vassals. He hoped that his peers in the main Conqueror Fleet – code-named Caladbolg –would not fall to the stratagems of the enemy.

He chuckled. What was he saying? Of course they wouldn't fall for the ploys of their enemy. Accompanying Conqueror Fleet Caladbolg was none other than the protégé of the Reyguard Empire's wily Prime Minister, Shun Yi. The Chinese _strategos_ was one of a dozen that was regarded as the near-equal of the Supreme Commander of the Black Dragon Army. Having worked with Shun Yi for the past two years, the Dragon Knight Conqueror Fleet commander had seen what his peer was capable of. The latter's penchant for utilizing tactics favoured by extremists and insurgents had made him a sword that the Prime Minister was loathe to draw unless he had no other choice.

"Kakeru-sama…?" a sleepy voice made the dark-haired man turn. There, rising from the bed, her voluptuous curves bathed in the starlight, was one of the Knight-Commander's lovers. Knee-length, silver-gold hair framed an elegant face and cascaded over her shoulders in a gleaming waterfall. Long, pointed ears marked the young woman as a Gear of the elven sub-class.

"I'm sorry, Mayfair," the Dragon Knight Commander said, "Did I wake you?"

"No. It's all right. Have we reached Castle Krieger yet, master?"

"Mayfair, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? I am not a noble. And I most certainly did not save you and your twin sister from those slavers with the intention of having you call me what you would have called many other men," the man replied, "But to answer your question, not yet."

The female Gear smiled as she got off the bed, wrapped a blanket around her nude body and joined her lover at the view-screen. What she saw made her shiver, but not from fear. While the Conqueror Fleet led by her lover was considerably smaller than any dispatched by the Kaiser of Reyguard, it still bespoke of the latter's power and his determination to resurrect an Empire whose banner had flown on a thousand worlds in a bygone age of glory. It also whispered the names of ten thousand heroes whose deeds and words were the foundation upon which a new interstellar Empire would be built. An Empire of which Mayfair's home colony of Doria would be part of and which her children – as well as those of her sister's – would be citizens of. The female Gear blushed furiously. It was an appealing image, one that made her reach down to her stomach. She, like every woman who shared the dark-haired Knight-Commander's bed, knew that it was only a matter of time before she conceived. The dark-haired commander was an insatiable, passionate lover. Mayfair could count on the fingers of one hand the number of women who had the strength to return to their quarters after hours of vigorous bed sport.

"Mayfair, are you all right?"

"Eh…?" the girl jumped, "No. No, I'm fine, Kakeru-sama. I was just thinking about the mission…"

Kakeru smiled and ran a callused hand down the female Gear's face. It was a tender gesture that made the young woman's heart race. The dark-haired Knight-commander leaned forward and whispered into her ear, the tone of his voice playful, "You're lying to me, Mayfair. I know you're thinking about…other things. But just this time, I'll let it slide. I would be lying," the expression on Kakeru's face became serious, "if I said that I am untroubled by the task given to me by Lord Vargas. I have so many questions, but no answers. Questions like where on earth did the Coalition manage to acquire blueprints for a weapon from the Dominion era, and who was the person who gave it to them. These Mavors may not be as powerful as the original, but their ability to deliver a powerful warhead from a thousand kilometres with pinpoint accuracy which is capable of punching through a base's defensive void shield barriers and destroying anything within a ten-block radius makes it a weapon we cannot afford to ignore."

"Could the Coalition have acquired the blueprints of the weapon from one of the Junker Guilds, Kakeru-sama?" Mayfair asked.

"That was what Natasha and I thought at first, until Royston pointed out that most of what the Junker Guilds acquires and sells to the highest bidder are blueprints for weapon systems that are effective at tactical rather than strategic levels. The Junker Charter expressively forbids its members from selling any weapon capable of causing mass destruction…"

"But some do so anyway," Mayfair added.

"Indeed. The money to be made in such a transaction is enormous," Kakeru emphasised the word, "We are talking about billions of dollars and a debt owed to the group by a state. It would be hard for any of them to turn down what was being offered. Junkers are, if nothing else, an extremely pragmatic lot. And competitive," the Knight-commander turned his gaze to the _Behemoth_-class battle-cruiser that belonged to Belit and her Junkers, remembering the first time they had met, "They will not hesitate to use underhanded methods to gain the upper hand on their business rivals. And such acts can lead to a Guild War. When that happens, let me just say that it can get very, **VERY** messy…"

"Why do the authorities not intervene, Kakeru-sama?"

"The Charter that the Junkers operate under grants them diplomatic immunity up to a certain degree. As long as they do not get innocents involved in their feuds, the authorities cannot touch them. Only the Maestro can waive that immunity, and he does this only within reason. Also, there is one other reason why the authorities are reluctant to interfere in the affairs of the Junker Guilds: they provide an invaluable service to those they answer to."

"And that is?" Mayfair asked.

"The Junker Guilds are one of two factions in the entire Solar System who possess – and guard jealously – the Standard Construction Templates for that which had allowed humanity to migrate across the stars long ago: hyperspace engines. Ours allow us to make short jumps. The jump drives possessed by the Junkers allow them to cross light-years and to tread upon ground that our ancestors had had centuries ago in order to rediscover that which we have lost…"

A melodious chime from the nearby terminal cut the dark-haired Knight-Commander short, and he raised a hand to Mayfair, a silent request that she not speak, "Computer, open channel. Voice only."

"Confirmed," the ship's AI replied, "Opening channel now."

A holographic screen materialized before Kakeru, the words 'VOICE ONLY' dominating the 15 inch screen hovering before him.

"Kakeru?" a woman's voice, one that both Kakeru and Mayfair recognized as belonging to the captain of the _Rhadamantine_, emerged from the terminal's speakers, "You might want to come to the bridge immediately. We have a small problem."

"And that is…?"

"Sensors have picked up a fleet approaching us. Identification codes of the approaching fleet marks them as belonging to His Majesty's vassals, the Kingdom of Romboni."

"Composition of the fleet…?" Kakeru asked.

"Four _Novena_-class mass conveyors, twelve _Chariot_-class frigates, eight _Minotaur_-class battle-cruisers, one _Battlestar_-class heavy carrier and a _Hades_-class heavy cruiser," Marian replied, "Hold on a moment...oh, I can't believe this!"

"Marian, what's wrong?"

"Sensors have confirmed that the _Hades_-class heavy cruiser is none other than the _Fire Empress_, the flagship of Princess Bianca. And she's hailing us," the edge in Marian's voice matched the annoyance Kakeru saw in Mayfair's eyes. The last meeting between Kakeru's rival and his companions had been less than cordial. The fiery and proud red-haired daughter of King Shalom IX of Romboni viewed any who was not a noble with disdain. Kakeru let out a long breath. There was no way around this, short of having his ships blow the Romboni fleet into atoms. Truth be told, he had expected Bianca, whom he had met in his days as an officer cadet in the Imperial War Academy, to get involved sooner rather than later. She would not allow someone who had bested her numerous times in all the years she had been there off so easily.

The next words from Marian served only to reinforce that belief, "Thunderhawk inbound. She's on her way, Kakeru. Request permission to shoot her down..."

"Request denied. Let her land. I will meet her in the hangar bay," the dark-haired Knight-Commander replied before terminating the connection. He turned to see Mayfair trying hard not to laugh. Kakeru shook his head in mock-despair before pulling the female Gear into his arms, the action causing the blanket covering her lush, nude body to fall to the floor. Mayfair felt her lover's erect phallus, rock hard and throbbing, against her body. She felt her face redden. The female elven Gear knew what her lover had in mind, but thought it wise to ask if keeping the fiery princess of Romboni would be wise.

Kakeru chuckled, "My dealing with Bianca can wait. You, on the other hand, I will not keep waiting. And 15 minutes is enough time for what I have in mind. After all, I promised to punish you for lying to me earlier." (19)

**X X X**

_**Minas Eriador, Mars**_

_**Citadel of the Lord General Artix Krieger**_

_**Command Centre**_

Minas Eriador was the citadel and the seat of power of one of the most powerful warlords in the Empire, the Lord General Artix Krieger. The finest war-masons and military architects of the Empire had built the citadel a hundred years ago on the ruins of an ancient Angmarian fortress which had bled both the Kingdom of Lordaeron and the Imperial Dominion white during the Second Solar War. The reason for the heavy losses suffered by both had been due to the geographic location of Minas Eriador: the fortress had been built within a massive crater almost ten kilometres in diameter. The walls of said crater were reinforced and boasted numerous gun turrets and artillery embrasures that would make the taking of Minas Eriador a bloody affair. Powerful void shields and anti-orbital guns made a planetary invasion or an orbital bombardment on the fortress-city an equally risky endeavour. And the fact that it had an operational Gateway meant that Minas Eriador could ferry in supplies and troops from anywhere in the Empire without them having to run the gauntlet, allowing it to withstand a prolonged siege.

And it was that Gateway that would allow the Lord General to counter the incursion that the Coalition had mounted several hours before. Prince Erwin Blazecrown of Baldea, appointed commander of the Fiery Crown Legion, turned to look at the large holographic strategic array that dominated the floor below. The Empire's Gateway network was blazing as the Lord Warden of the North called upon reinforcements from both the capital and every major city and stronghold throughout the Empire to break the Coalition assault. Imperial airship squadrons carrying troops and mecha materialized at military installations closest to the embattled front and began deploying their forces to secure the region before launching attacks against the Coalition forces. Others, led by commanders whose character traits had made them more suited to attacking than defending, were sent to engage the enemy.

These soon found themselves under intense bombardment by long-range heavy artillery that delivered payloads more powerful than those fired by any known artillery installation. Erwin turned to look at his lieutenants, and several of them nodded at the unspoken question. The information that their contacts within the Brotherhood of Nod and the Alpha Legion had shared with them was true: the Coalition had a new super-weapon that was more powerful – and which had a longer range – than the Empire's Proton Collider. It was a threat that the Lord General wanted neutralized as soon as possible, something which was easier said than done as said weapons would most likely be located within the secure confines of Coalition strongholds such as Minas Mithras and Castle Krakenhold. But before he could do so, the Empire's Lord Warden of the North had to break the Coalition invasion before it was too late.

The red-haired Baldean Prince frowned as he studied the holographic strategic display once more. What exactly was the Coalition hoping to achieve? His teachers both within and outside the Imperial War Academy had taught him to always consider the objectives of one's enemies, as doing so would give him a measure of insight as to how the latter would fight his battles. The strength of one's arm won battles; the soundness of one's strategies won wars. Erwin had been made aware of his flaws and the bloody price those under his command would be forced to pay should he let his emotions cloud his judgment during his time at the Academy. He remembered the fierce backhand that Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande of the Imperial Fists had dealt him and the disappointed look his tutor (and Chief Mentat of Baldea), the Archmage Jessica von Einzbern, had levelled at him when he led his entire team to their deaths. He remembered the scornful laughter of the opposing team – which comprised mostly of Imperial highborn puritans who detested 'gutter nobles' that hailed from countries annexed by the Empire – as they left the Chamber of Swords.

"Let this," his tutor had told him as she and his compatriots left him in the silent darkness of the simulation room, "be a lesson you learn once. And let that pain be a reminder that there ARE fates worse than death for one who has been entrusted the lives of others."

It was a bitter lesson, but it was one taken to heart and which had seen to him forging an army worthy of the Iron Throne of the Empire. Erwin looked at his sub-commanders. He knew that none of them would have followed him had he been the person he had been before he was sent to the Academy by his brothers, before he had met men and women who would embody everything he wanted to be. The eight thousand-strong Legion that Erwin commanded was led by him as much as it was by the dozen men and women around him. First among them was Hein Kalmar, a cyan-haired Atlantean Battlemage who had been Erwin's loyal shadow since his days in the Academy. Standing next to him was Sonia of Angmar, the Gear-born half-sister of the mercenary Rohga, whom his tutor had introduced to him during his second year in the Academy and whom the red-haired prince had made his aide and retainer in the months after. Towering behind Sonia was her older, half-brother, Rohga. Massive even without the gleaming black and gold-lined Terminator battle-plate he now wore, the black-haired mercenary had seen more battles than most Imperial Knightly Order veterans had in a lifetime and whom Erwin had appointed the commander of his honour guard when the man chose to accept his commission over that of several others. The Baldean prince did not know how on earth he had managed to secure Rohga's allegiance but he suspected that it was because of Sonia that he had.

Speaking to a staff officer of the Lord Warden's retinue was Dantarg Clausel, who had originally commanded the 37th Reyguard Heavy Infantry regiment in the Saturnian Front. The unit had been decimated in a series of battles against the powerful Free States Alliance and had been withdrawn back to the capital to replenish its ranks and rearm. When the regiment was restored to full strength, the 37th Heavy Infantry – also known by its sobriquet, 'The Stonebreakers' – was reassigned to form the mainstay of Erwin's Legion. It was well-known to the Imperial commanders on the Saturnian front that Rohga's Gladiators were locked in a rivalry Dantarg's Stonebreakers, and that the two companies would try to outdo the other whenever possible. Either made life difficult for the enemy. It was when the two regiments started working together that they could visit ten kinds of Hell on those were stupid enough to arouse their collective ire.

"Lord Erwin…?" a familiar voice caused the red-haired Baldean prince to meet the crimson eyes of Sirithis, a golden-maned Gear-succubus of Nazzadi descent whom the former had appointed as commander of one of his Legion's five mecha squadrons. The black-skinned Sirithis hailed from the Barony of Malvernis, a vassal state of the Empire, and whose request for a transfer was picked up by Jessica herself.

"Sirithis," Erwin nodded in greeting, "Are our ships and troops ready?"

"As ordered, sire. I have had Aundine and Sir William requisition more supplies from Minas Eriador's forges in preparation for the campaign. We will need them before long."

"Excellent. And the other matter…?" Erwin asked, the undertone of his question telling Sirithis if she had managed to get hold of the Brotherhood of Nod division commander in Minas Eriador and give him the data-crystal that held a copy of a conversation between an unknown individual whom the Baldean prince suspected was a high-ranking officer within the Imperial Army and an agent of the Free States Alliance. That leak was what had caused Erwin and his Legion to be caught in a trap that had cost him and another Legion Commander nearly a thousand men to break out of.

"It is done, my lord."

"My prince, I think the Lord Warden has made the decision of where to send us," Captain Hadrian of the Legion's second mecha squadron said. His declaration caused whatever conversations Erwin's subordinates were in the middle of to come to a screeching halt. Approaching them was one of the Lord Warden's staff officers, bearing in one hand a data-slate that contained the Fiery Crown's marching orders.

"Lord Erwin," the man saluted the red-haired prince before handing him the data-slate, "By the command of Lord General Artix Krieger, His Majesty's appointed Supreme Commander of the Northern Theatre, you and your Legion are to be deployed to Castle Crimsonheart. From there, you are to carry out attacks on the Coalition forces who have dared to invade our Empire and to assist those units who have been routed from the front to the aforementioned rallying points marked on the data-slate. The manner in which you and yours choose to carry out your orders is left to your discretion. But understand this, Lord Erwin: Failure will not be tolerated. Fall short, and the Commissariat will come to relieve you of your command if the enemy does not do so first."

Erwin felt his subordinates bristle at the officer's utter lack of disrespect, and he held up one armoured hand to calm them down.

"I understand, Captain," the red-haired prince replied, "How long before the Gateway will be ready for our translation to Castle Crimsonheart?"

"You have two hours."

**(O)**

**Erebus Research Station Observation deck**

**Pluto, demesne of the Ashen King,**

**At that very moment**

His work was coming close to fruition. It had taken over a decade of hard work and research, of plumbing the depths of that which had given rise to the Gear race in a bygone age of legend, for him to reach this point. He remembered the day when the agents of the High Lords of the Church of Lordaeron had approached him and asked if he was willing to resurrect the Ultimate Coordinator Project. He would be granted the resources, funds and access to that which had made the Kingdom of Lordaeron and the now-extinct SeeD Organization peerless on and off a thousand battlefields: Arcanotechnology. It was an instrument by which humanity could surpass the limitations of both science and spirit. Mastering it, however, was difficult to say the least. The principles upon which it was built taxed the psyches of those that worked with it severely. More than one of the scientist's peers had lost his – and her – sanity in the near two decades they had worked with him.

The man poured himself another drink. Even with such potent tools and the aid of men and women who were in many instances superior to him in both intellect and ability, he had been able to only create only 18 successful specimens out of the thousand that the Supreme Lord of the Holy Order had asked of him. And of these, only 15 walked Creation doing their master's will. The last three slept in their stasis coffins, waiting for the day when the seals on their sarcophagi would be broken. Questions filled the man's mind. Why had he failed? What had gone wrong? Where had he gone wrong? How could he make perfect the process that had made his lost son a demigod amongst men?

He did not know. What he did know was that the High Lords were less than pleased with the Project's abysmal results. What he did know was that without his wife, any hope of resurrecting the Ultimate Coordinator Project was doomed to failure. What he did know was that he had lost his son a second time in the Bloody Valentine War, his passing mourned by those who loved him. What he did know was that Rau le Creuset, the previous incumbent of the Serpent Throne, had failed to bring his son to him. The glass the scientist held creaked in protest as the man tightened his grip around it. He had one last chance to make his dreams a reality and he would be damned before he let it slip through his fingers. It was time to call in the favours he was owed – all of them.

"Master Hibiki…?"

The blonde-haired scientist looked up to see a dark-haired man clad in robes of white and gold approach him. The steel genetic helix pin and winged skull pin on his mantle marked him as a researcher under the employ of the Ashen King. Tucked under the man's arm was a data-slate, no doubt containing reports of the tests he had had his subordinates carry out.

"Edgar-san," Ulen Hibiki nodded a greeting to his subordinate, "How did the tests go?"

"They went well, Master Hibiki. Lady Alyssa told me to tell you that while we are ready to enter the final phase of the Project, she requests that you give her and her team more time to better improve the Engel Interface System. The empathic feedback values are far higher than what we had originally predicted. We will need to create a better Buffer-Isolation system than the one we are currently using on the Engels. If not, we may have another…incident."

"How long would that take?" Ulen asked his subordinate.

"Two months, at least," the other man replied. The blonde-haired scientist did not speak for several minutes, his mind weighing what had been asked of him and what needed to be done. Without a proper B/I System to cushion the feedback, there was a high chance that, should the Engel suffer considerable damage, the pilot would be knocked unconscious – something that would drive the Engel insane with rage. The last time that happened, it had taken the Lord Archangel, the Ashen King and his wife, as well as three full squadrons of LEVs to destroy the enraged machine. Ulen Hibiki and his colleagues were keen to not have a repeat of that incident; the wrath of two High Lords and a Horseman was not something anyone in his or her right mind wanted to be on the receiving end of.

"Do it, Edgar. Tell Alyssa she has my permission. I will inform the Lord Archangel and the Star Empress of the delay, and the reasons why. The Engel Project (20) must succeed, no matter the cost. The High Lords are already displeased with our previous failure. If we fail this time, it will be all our heads.

"That goes without saying, sir. Oh, and sir…I have a question."

"Go on."

"The Engel Project," Edgar began, "All those theories and algorithms, the ideas and concepts, they were not yours, were they, sir?"

Ulen smiled, "No, Edgar-san. They were not mine. They were my wife's. Or more accurately, they belonged to her ancestor, Eliza Eltnam Atlasia. She had been one of the Imperial Dominion's chief scientists, charged by the Empress Allura Dracian to create a weapon superior to any during that era. And do you know what, Edgar-san? She succeeded. We will do the same, and then take it to the next level…"

**(O)**

**_Castle Sanctus, Mars_**

**_Demesne of the Royal Family of Lordaeron_**

**_At that very moment_**

The white and gold armoured demigod stood before a massive painting twelve meters in height and ten meters across. Encased within a stasis field and suspended in mid-air by suspensor globes was the last work of an individual whose beauty and power, like those of her ancestors, had been immortalized in the stories and legends of both her people as well as that of humanity's. The golden eyes of the Supreme Lord of the Holy Order turned towards the marble likeness of one whom many across the ages had called, as the renowned sculptor Hadrian Marcus had, the Queen of Heaven. Encased like the painting she had created, behind the stasis field and force wards, the armoured giant could not run its armoured talons across one of the few works of Hadrian Marcus that had survived the passing of the centuries. Kneeling in prayer, her hands clasped together and her four wings spread wide, the demigoddess – for the Holy Queens of Suldanesselar as well as their kin were nothing else – prayed for the one soul both the Devil and her Creator would not tolerate within their respective domains.

In one individual was the full power of the White Princess and her beloved incarnated, a monster who had no equal in the thousand ages that Creation had borne witness to. A monster who had at his command the Noble Phantasms, abilities and weapons of two Heroic Spirits and the Charms of the mage who had led them to victory in the Fifth Holy Grail War. A monster who had once led one of the Holy Order's most revered Legions, and who had been accompanied by men and women whose actions had earned them a place in the pages of history. Let them be flawed, Vashishtael had told her, but let them not be dishonoured. Let humanity know that the wretched can be made great, and that heroism and honour knows no boundary.

Wise words, indeed…

The armoured demigod could remember each and every one of those who served in her archenemy's ranks. Sheik Muhammad, the Wandering Angel, child of the Silver Siren and the Lightning Knight, former commander of one of the Galactic Police's elite Assault Divisions – that one would have been a strong contender for the position of Lord Archangel had he been born a scant three decades earlier. He had served as the Fiery Sword Legion's field commander, a revered man who had had his subordinates lose years of their lives because of his penchant for leading from the front. Shateiel Spiritblade of Betelgeuse, son of a Knight of Antares and the Betelgeusian terrorist known as the Crimson Witch, a big-hearted and lovable rogue with scores of lovers and three times as many children across the firmament; a brave, stalwart soul loved by many and hated by few. Ancient Valkaze Beowulf, the honoured ancestor of one of the founding families of the Reyguard Empire, who had led the Fiery Sword Legion's Terminator elite for over forty years across a thousand battlefields before he fell at the Siege of Suldanesselar. Colonel Karl Richards, Ancient Valkaze's opposite and rival, who led the Sternguard veterans of the Fiery Sword Legion's Knightly Order and whom the previous Lord Archangel had called the 'craziest idiot to ever wear the robes of a Templar'. Taherih Safien, the female commander of the Fiery Sword's feared Ghost Rangers, whose guns and guerrilla tactics had driven more than one enemy commander up the wall and who had bled the Holy Order armies white in the closing days of the War of Wrath.

There were many more. The crimson-maned demigod needed only to close its golden eyes to see the faces of the men and women whom it had consigned to the pyre so as to ensure that it would win the Jyhad. More than the Champion she betrayed, more than the wrath of the Creator, it was the Adversary's machinations the armoured demigod feared. For centuries beyond counting, it had sent its agents to break the power and influence of the Enemy of God. The Supreme Lord's armoured fist tightened around the ornate, twin-pronged spear she carried. He remembered the last words of the Wandering Angel when his ship, the _Arcadia_, had returned to Lordaeron, its badly-scarred hull and wrecked weapon mounts a testament to the ferocity of the battle it had been in. Of the thirteen angels that followed him into the Algol System, only one returned to tell the High Lords and their lieutenants of what had transpired there: Reiko Kirihara, former Galactic Police Assault Division commander and the Wandering Angel's former superior within that revered organization. Her testimony as well as that of her former student's painted a picture that rekindled within the hearts of the Supreme Lord's peers and subordinates the primordial fear humanity had had of the darkness.

But fear gave rise to anger. Anger became defiance. Defiance became courage. Courage became faith. Faith became strength, and strength became purpose. The tarot cards the Supreme Lord had drawn in the days before the _Arcadia_ returned bespoke of a war fought within the golden cage of the Algol System, against a malevolent power that wore the face of a merciful goddess. It spoke of a gathering of might similar to that which the crimson-maned demigod had borne witness to in a bygone age of myth. But the price of victory had been high: the end of the millennia-long golden age of one of the Seven Seal Worlds and the lives of its saviours.

The Wandering Angel's comrades in the Legion had lit twenty-one candles in the Basilica Sanctum when they received news of their brother's death: thirteen for him and his companions and eight for their Algolian compatriots. When night fell on the planet of the Fiery Sword Legion's home-world of Ansalon, the Legion Castellan had had the lights of the Chapter stronghold and its brother fortresses extinguished. In the light of a thousand candles, its warriors gathered and told stories of their departed brothers. Within the Basilica Sanctum itself, the Supreme Lord of the Order watched as the Wandering Angel's kin and friends gather to listen to their lost brother's final hours via the lips of the woman who had been both his teacher and lover. And unknown to them, the mightiest of the Holy Order stood in the wings and the shadows and listened and bade farewell in their own way.

But only one celebrated, taking joy in the knowledge that the blemish on his predecessor's honour was at long last washed away in the blood of the child of the one that had led the latter into sin. You, the Supreme Lord had told the departed shade of the current Lord Archangel's predecessor that night, had made a terrible mistake in choosing that one, Frederick. Had you chosen to hold onto your mantle a little while longer, you would have found a prince amongst men.

The Supreme Lord of the Holy Order let out a long breath. There was no point wishing that she had chosen differently. The crimson-maned giant had supported her peer's decision to elevate one of the Chapter Masters under his command to take his place. The current Lord Archangel – the same one that had led the Templar Legions to break the back of the Imperial Dominion's fearsome military a thousand years ago during the War of Wrath – was a warlord with few equals and whose fierce oratory had driven the men and women under him to heights of heroism that their descendants remembered with pride and sought to emulate. But deep beneath that glorious, heroic exterior were flaws that the armoured demigod knew would be her Lord Archangel's undoing. And try as she might to steer him from the path he now trod, she knew it would be all for naught. She remembered what a warlord in Terra's distant past had said in regards to human nature: _'As with men, so it is with silk; it is difficult to change their colours once they have been set. ' _

"My lord," the voice of the Throne Guard Centurion broke the Supreme Lord out of her thoughts, "Elector Count Dycedarg Beowulf approaches…" (22)

The crimson-maned demigoddess turned to see a lean, bearded man clad in black and silver robes striding down the corridor in the company of four Northern Sky knights. Belted at the Elector Count's waist was an ornate power sword that the Supreme Lord of the Holy Order had once seen wielded by the late Chapter Master of the Order of the Northern Sky, Balbanes Beowulf. What was its name…? Ah, yes – Balbanes had called his sword, _Sun Crusher._ His escorts were clad in powered combat suits adorned with honour markings and were armed with master-crafted heavy gauss rifles and chain-blades. Upon seeing her, both the Elector Count and his escorts fell to their knees.

"Lord Metatron…"

"Ah, Lord Dycedarg Beowulf," the armoured giant replied, "Rise, child, you and yours. It has been a long time since we last spoke – and we have time to do so before the King summons me into his presence. How fares the House of one of my champions?"

"We prosper as never before, highness," the bearded Elector Count replied, "Our recent dealings with the Kingdom of Palse and that of Albion have given us more than just economic prosperity, but also an insight into the region's political situations."

"Pray tell, young Beowulf. Enlighten me as to what you have learnt…"

"Our emissaries are close to brokering a peace treaty between the Kingdoms of Palse and Lusitania. The chances of it failing are remote, but one can never tell, what with King Andragoras on one side and the religious hardliners of Lusitania on the other," the Elector Count said, "Kaiser Bernhardt has sent his champion, Lu Bu, to ensure that Andragoras does not do anything foolish."

"The Immortal Phoenix," the Supreme Lord replied, referring to the Reyguard's Kaiser most feared champion by his sobriquet, "will have his hands full. King Andragoras still harbours resentment for Reyguard having defeated his armies and bringing Palse under the rule of the Iron Throne (23). And the religious caste of Lusitania…"

"Are not so foolish as to derail the armistice, Dycedarg," the demigoddess replied, "At least, not now…"

"Indeed, highness," the bearded Elector Count replied, "Neither they nor the Lusitanian Royal Family wants to have an Imperial Conqueror Fleet on their doorstep – especially after having seen their enemy's mightiest citadel, the same one they had spent years trying to conquer, fall to the Iron Throne within the space of three weeks. I heard that its generals chose to surrender rather than continue the struggle when they heard that Warmaster of the Thousand Scales had been sent in after pacifying the rebels in the Republic of Valendia. (24)"

"Valendia…? That is within the Dukedoms of Mercury, correct?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"And the Earth Sphere…? What do your agents within the Kingdom of Albion say?"

Dycedarg chuckled, but the sound was cold and without mirth, "I believe you know more about what transpires in the Earth Sphere than I do, your majesty. You have more agents within the region than most of the other countries and kingdoms in the Solar System combined. I know that a grand majority are tasked with the recruitment of those whose…traits will best serve us, but there are others who are tasked with something else. Something of far greater importance…"

The Supreme Lord of the Church of Lordaeron turned his attention briefly back to the painting behind him. There were many things that the crimson-maned demigod liked about the eldest son of the late Chapter Master of the Northern Sky. He had in him the qualities that would make him the equal of Eckhart Steiner, the trusted advisor and Prime Minister of the Reyguard Empire's revered sovereign. But beneath that dignified, regal exterior were flaws that the demigod had seen in his Lord Archangel. Dycedarg Beowulf was ruthless, ambitious and power-hungry – and those qualities blazed like the inferno that had consumed the Earth Sphere some two years prior.

Qualities that made him useful for the tasks the Supreme Lord had in mind. The armoured giant turned to face the bearded Elector Count once more, "I suppose I should have been more careful. The rank and file of House Beowulf's spy network are professionals, after all. Yes, Dycedarg Beowulf, you are correct. I am looking for something…"

_'Remember that deception is a weapon made potent when truth is its whetstone."_

"…and that something is a weapon my archenemy has managed to steal and hide within the Earth Sphere. Though where, I do not know."

"When did this happen?" the Elector Count asked.

"During the Ragnarok Schism," the Supreme Lord replied, her golden eyes looking back across the centuries to a time when the Lord Archangel fought against his son in a war that had seen to the birth of the Reyguard Empire. The latter had been a white-haired rogue with a body the equal to that of Hercules and powers that rivalled even that of the crimson-maned demigoddess's peer, the Star Empress Mikhail. Lecherous and proud, yet loyal to those he loved, Dark Schneider (25) had cut a blazing path to Lordaeron, hell-bent on doing what its most feared enemy could not in a bygone era: destroy the Kingdom of Lordaeron and casting the images of its rulers and saints into the mud. And he came close to doing so. For the first time in its long history, the majestic capital of the Kingdom and the Cathedral of the Sanctified, the new Basilica Sanctum the Supreme Lord had had built in the decades after the end of the War of Wrath and the conquest of Mars, knew the touch and fury of the four Horsemen of old.

The Supreme Lord clutched her spear, the symbol of her office. It was during that time that her archenemy appeared with his kin to steal that which would give him a chance to win the Jyhad. For his temerity, she had granted him a wound that would never heal. In return, the former Legion Master of the Fiery Sword Legion had wounded her seven times, the cursed gifts of his clan biting deep into the flesh and soul of one who had borne witness to the Springtime of Creation.

"What was it, your majesty…? What was the weapon the Cursed One stole?"

The crimson-maned demigoddess turned to look at the man before her. Cursed One? Yes, her former servant was cursed. In his veins, he bore the power and legacy that had driven no few members of his clan insane, but which was given in love rather than claimed through artifice, greed and ambition. Before the White Princess was imprisoned forever within her castle, she had given her lover, a gentle, dark-haired Angel of Death whose blade had written the final chapters of monsters who had believed themselves beyond punishment and the Reaper's reach four children. Each was a monster that married their mother's matchless power with their father's unparalleled ability to kill.

"He took a War Goddess with him…"

_'And reclaimed,_' a familiar, hated voice echoed in the Supreme Lord's mind, _'that which rightly belongs to him and his clan. You are hunted as no other has been hunted through the ages of the world, firstborn of my beloved. In your fear, you have raised a blade against an enemy whom even I and my Creator dare not cross. And now, you will pay dearly for your trespass…'_

The lips beneath the helm curled in disdain at the speaker, and the Supreme Lord replied in a mental voice rich with scorn, _'I am unafraid. Let him come. I have made my plans and called to my side champions equal to the Solars of old. I will make his victory a bitter one.'_

Soft, sardonic laughter filled the Supreme Lord's mind, _'Very well, firstborn of my beloved. Let us see if the coming days be the beginning of a new saga that would rival that of Gilgamesh's – or the last chapter writ by the Bloody Angel's blade? Prepare yourself. There is no turning back now.'_

**_To be continued…_**

**_Author's afterword and annotations_**

Finally! After six months of hard work, Chapter 10 is done! Yes! Now, the next chapter will be a short one (?), focusing on Cross's friends within Constellation Team Leo, as well as Kira's friends, namely Sai, Kazui and Miriallia (which I admit, should have been in this chapter…). Also, Kisaragi Ayumi of the Iron Throne Junkers Guild will meet with her contact in Tokyo-3. Ko Shiatar will be meeting the Ockzam's Razor representatives – and the meeting will be less than cordial. Tiffa Ayanami and Sheila D'Avenant, Cross's superiors, will meet with the EA team that had docked on Neo-Stratos.

The clock is counting down, ladies and gentlemen, and the Four Horsemen stir from their slumber.

**AND…YOU CAN BE PART OF IT!**

In the spirit of the StarCraft 2 game's ability to recruit mercenaries, I am holding a recruitment drive. For those of you who read my story and want to play a small part in the forthcoming, please take note of the format in which you will introduce yourself and the army you are leading.

1) In the previous chapter, I made the mistake of naming Youlan as Youlan Chang. His real name is Youlan Kent. Sorry, my bad.

2) Rei za Barrel is the female version of the original Rey za Barrel of GSD. Look him (her) up on Google: Rey za Barrel genderswap.

3) Project Longinus is the top-secret ZAFT military project that saw to the creation of the Neutron Stampeder.

4) The dream sequences of Heine Westenfluss, Rei Za Barrel and Phantom Pain Commander Christopher Valiant are a premonition of the battles that will decide the fate of the Earth Sphere.

5) Heine and an OC (initials are AK, who would later on become SM) know each other. The latter lives on Neo-Troy – and has been briefly mentioned in an earlier chapter.

6) Project Warlord – a star-ship or a new type of MS. Will decide soon…

7) Patrick Badgiruel is the father of Natarle Badgiruel. I may have made a mistake here. If so, please correct me. More on him in later chapters.

8) The characters from the guro-comic series Angel Corps will make an appearance later on in the story. I renamed it as Elohim Corps.

9) The Empire of the Rising Sun – aka the Shogunate – is the same one from Red Alert 3. Its ruler is a childhood friend and battle-comrade of the current Kaiser of the Reyguard Empire.

10) This is the name of the mission when Phantom Pain moves in to steal the Gaia, Abyss and Chaos.

11) Stormlord – that is the call-sign of Commander Shateiel Sinclair, commander of ZAFT's Constellation Teams, back when he was an MS squadron commander in the Bloody Valentine War. His penchant for striking during stormy weather earned him his sobriquet. Constellation Lord was given to him only after he was given command of the (extremely troublesome, in the eyes of his peers) Constellation Teams.

12) The War of Princes took place in C.E. 47 to C.E. 57. It was a ten year war in which the Reyguard Empire was splintered by civil war. Bernhardt Glastheim came to power after defeating his elder brother and uncle for the right to be Emperor. Emperor Yoshiro, current ruler of the Empire of the Rising Sun and classmate (as well as childhood friend) of Bernhardt, had aided the latter in his endeavour. Both the Shogunate's Emperor and its Crown Prince would rather have a man like Bernhardt on Reyguard's throne than his ambitious uncle or his incompetent brother. A Reyguard divided would have considerable repercussions on the

13) Ryoki Housen, daughter of the Bloody Empress: OC Alert! More on the way! And that scene WILL happen. Just how, you'll have to read and find out!

14) Earth's 12 Hierarchical Cities are Moscow (Russia), Seoul (Federated Republic of Korea), Vatican (Rome), Jerusalem (Israel), Mecca (Saudi Arabia), Tokyo-2 (Japan), New Cairo (Egypt – capital), Kabul (Afghanistan), Damascus (Iran), Singapore, New Beijing (China) and Christchurch (New Zealand).

15) The Reyguard's Empire to bring countries not allied to it under its banner is known as the Conqueror War. I may have named it something else in earlier chapters, and will make amendments when I double back.

16) The Brotherhood of Nod from Command and Conquer makes an appearance here as the Empire's premier Intelligence Service. Move aside, CIA and Mossad. These guys are what you will be centuries from now, when Holy Terra is united under one banner. The Brotherhood of Nod is commanded by Kaiser Bernhardt's Chief Minister and Advisor, Eggbert/Eckhart (who also commands the Black Dragon Army).

17) Also, the faction that makes this character – do note that this one is NOT an OC – an orphan play a part in a shadow war that the Brotherhood of Nod and its enemies will **NOT** want to get involved in. It is an invitation to know terror intimately and die in ways that would give hardened coroners nightmares.

18) Salacia(n) – Wife of the god, Neptune.

19) Mass OC alert: DK4 (Elf) characters as soldiers and characters under the banner of the Empire of Reyguard.

20) The Engel Project is the same one from CthulhuTech. Please buy the books and support the creators. I do, and I love – utterly love – what they have done to H.P. Lovecraft's work. Also, the original writer of this fanfic, Kouryou Saber, planned to bring NGE into this story. I agreed, but made some, as you can already tell, alterations.

21) Nicholas Aurelian VIII is the Kingdom of Lordaeron's ruler. Must remember that…

22) FFT characters will make an appearance in this story. As to what their degree of involvement remains to be seen. Loved the game, loved the characters and the storyline – and Meralin's 'The Reluctant Hero' (listed in my favourites) only made matters worse.

23) The (Iron) Throne of Reyguard and the Iron Throne Junker's Guild are two entirely different entities. Must remember that, lest I make the mistake – which would be fatal.

24) Republic of Valendia is located within the Dukedoms of Mercury.

25) And this is where the 'Bastard!' Anime and comic series and characters come in. Now, how shall I use him…?


	13. Chapter 11

**_Gundam SeeD Destiny – Lion of Heaven_**

**_Original Idea, drafts and concepts by Kouryuo Sabre_**

**_Re-written by Spiritblade_**

_**Disclaimer**: _I think we can skip this. We know who Gundam SeeD and GSD series belong to, and who the original writer of this story is – and it will be most discourteous if I should ever forget. Special thanks to Kouryuo Sabre for allowing me to write this story. And, dear readers, I have a favour to ask of you. Please do leave a review. It will ensure that I don't fall asleep on duty. And now, for the latest chapter in my – and Kouryuo Saber's – epic work: Gundam Seed Destiny – Lion of Heaven. Enjoy!

**_Author's Note:_** Please take note that the original author and creator of GSD: Lion of Heaven, Kouryuo Saber, has passed away on 8th August 2012. A candle will be lit for you, brother, and your memory will endure in that which you began. And should I fall, I ask that one day, someone take up that which I cannot finish. Immortality is made in such ways.

Also, this chapter contains spoilers of a degree that may very well spell my end. But it is the final, penultimate end of this great project Kouryuo Saber and I envisioned. The opening of this chapter will serve me in one way that is crucial: it will be my guide from now till the final end of this story. Also, it will serve one other purpose – to honour the shade of the man who had made this story possible.

**_Author's Note 2:_** One of my reviewers has pointed out - and I thank him for it – that Cagalli had given birth just recently. I have checked it out and found out, to my horror, that he was right. Cagalli had given birth only a day (maybe two to three, at most) prior to her meeting with Chairman Dullindal of the PLANTs. Holy cats and mice, what have I done…? Advanced medical technology in the Cosmic Era can help heal wounds at an accelerated rate, but those on the receiving end will be abed for at least a week. Then as now (in the story), childbirth is no picnic. As such, any reference to Cagalli's stint in hospital is lengthened to **TWO WEEKS.** I will go back and change that cursed mistake in the earlier chapter before it buries me ASAP!

_**Author's Note 3**:_ Writing this story is by no means easy. I knew that from when I inherited this project from Kouryuo Sabre. The politics, the relationship between the characters, the full ten yards of setting the stage for the Fourth Solar War…the sheer effort and breadth of knowledge required is herculean. I know I will make mistakes, and as such will need help – and guidance – from my readers. Help keep me in line. Should I deviate, let me know. Also, I am including a LOT of crossovers – and these take the form mostly of characters and countries (albeit with some changes).

For starters, anime series such as Freezing, Zero no Tsukaima, 'Bastard!', Love Hina, Rosario Vampire, Muv-Luv, Princess Lover and Trinity Blood (to a lesser degree; the clothing worn by the Vatican Inquisitors and the Methuselah are exquisite, you must agree) will make an appearance. Games such as Guilty Gear, Warhammer 40K, Valkyria Chronicles I and Der Langrisser and the RPG series CthulhuTech form the backdrop. Also LOTR: Rise of the Witch King game features in this chapter.

I should also give thanks to the authors of _'In Flight_' by Gabriel Blessing's, a wonderful and gritty Fate/Stay Night and Sekirei crossover as well as CrossyCross's FSN '_Nerve Damage'_. You guys have given me fuel that I needed to keep going.

**_Author's Note 4:_ **I have to bloody remember that the leader of the Ockham's Razor anti-Coordinator faction is a man named Ozcham Inhert.

And now, on to the story!

**(O)**

_Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum_ (Let him who wishes for peace prepare for war)

_- D__e Re Militari_, by Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus

_He is not one of us who proclaims the cause of nationalism and he is not one of us who fights the cause of nationalism and he is not one of us who dies in the cause of nationalism. Nationalism means helping your people in an unjust cause._

- Prophet Muhammad

**(O)**

**_New Hestus University, Ohio_**

**_United States of America – Territory of the Empire of Reyguard_**

**_13__th__ May, Cosmic Era 98_**

Kouryuo Saber, Lord Mage-Knight of the Celestial Lions Knightly Order, waited patiently outside the lecture theatre, his blue eyes taking in his surroundings. The New Hestus University was built some ten years after the end of the Fourth Solar War on the ruins of what had once been the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. That august institution had a history stretching back to an era when humanity had yet to leave the cradle of its birth-world and whose walls had immortalized the names and accomplishments of its finest students. It was said that engraved on those walls were the names of the men and women whose genius and ambition had ended two centuries of strife and whose labours saw to the creation of the first Gears. On those same walls, ironically, were the names of those who had brought that glorious dream to an end and whose works sowed the seeds of a bitter conflict that would later reduce much of the world to ruin. Who they were and what they did, the golden-haired Celestial Lion Lord did not know. What he did know, however, was that the consequences of what they had done had cast a long shadow across the ages – one that was dispelled only twenty years ago by the blood of heroes and the death of nations.

The generation that had been born in the years after the Fourth Solar War grew up in a time of intense post-war reconstruction. These would hear stories and see the scars of a conflict in which heroes and angels crossed swords for the right to rule the Solar System. From Asia to the Middle East, from South Africa to Europe, from Brazil to Canada, there was no country on the planet that was spared the attentions of the Horsemen. The Celestial Lion lord's armoured fist tightened around his force staff. He had fought in many battles in all the years he had been in the service to the Alabaster Throne of Lordaeron, but none would ever compare to the attack that the Earth Alliance and ZAFT would launch on the Eternal Fortress. Those who had lived in China's south-western regions would tell stories of the day when the skies were set ablaze and the earth shook under the bombardment the armies of the Earth Sphere had unleashed on the fortresses of their enemies. Kouryuo's mentor had told him once that knowledge was power, and that it should be guarded from those who would misuse it (or rather, in this case, use it to their advantage). The Compact of War (1) that bound the Twelve Thrones (2) to the conquest of the Earth Sphere had a clause that granted the powers-that-be in the latter an advantage that the former did not have. That clause stated that none of the participants would allow their enemies to capture or destroy their primary stronghold. For such a thing to happen would be a colossal loss of face to the sovereign and soldiers of said country, who would be forced to withdraw from the war and to relinquish all of the territories they had annexed back to the enemy or to a signatory of the Compact.

As such, it stood to reason that the sovereigns of each of the Twelve Thrones would fortify their citadels with formidable point, orbital and sub-orbital defences. All established a series of lesser citadels and military encampments that would make assailing the primary stronghold a bloody affair. Knowing that the only way they could bring the Fourth Solar War to a swift end was by striking at its head, the leaders of the Earth Sphere committed enormous amounts of manpower and resources to doing so. Grand Admiral Alexander Badgiruel, commander of the EA's Capital Defence fleet, outlined a plan that would significantly weaken the invasion force. They would strike at the heart of the Imperial-Holy Order war-effort: the Eternal Fortress. Bound as Lordaeron and Reyguard were by the Pact of Olympus, victory on the part of the Earth Sphere would have driven both countries from the Earth Sphere.

Theoretically, it was logical. In practice, it was possible. But what the leaders of the Earth Sphere did not know then was that the knowledge they had been made privy to was a lure that would ruin them. The ancient Chinese military strategist, Sun Tzu, had said that all war was deception. And the most potent deception was deceiving one's enemy into thinking that victory was possible before showing him the extent of his or her miscalculation. It was a stratagem fashioned with but one goal in mind: the break utterly the fighting spirit of the enemy army and the hearts of his countrymen. September 11th of the 75th year of the Cosmic Era (3) was a day that the countless millions that called the Solar System home would never forget. Not only was that the day when they learnt that the stories that they were told by the grandparents and which they had read on printed novel and e-book not mere fabrications of an overactive imaginations, it was the day when the Earth Sphere would suffer one of its most disastrous defeats in the entire War. But the toll that the legions of the Iron and Alabaster Thrones paid in return for that victory had been a high one. The Divine Wolf and his honour guard would die in battle against an enemy they had no hope of defeating. An enemy whose name was revered for everything he had accomplished when he had been the Holy Kingdom's most beloved champion and reviled for the lies many took as truth.

**"**_**There are few in Creation who can match my father in battle, brother Kouryuo. It was foolish on the part of High Lord Arian to think that he and his Honour Guard could do what an entire Legion could not. But his death was not in vain. It brought out those whose lust for power outweighed their loyalty to that which so many have given their lives to make a reality."** _

But crushing the armies of the Earth Alliance and ZAFT had only been one part of the stratagem. The senior warlords within the Imperial and Holy Order legions had wanted to use the chaos that would come in the aftermath of the siege of the Eternal Fortress to their advantage to deal the Earth Sphere a blow from which they could never recover. These took note of the plans that the future Divine Wolf (4) – a former Throne Guard Centurion and the son of the late Queen Isabella III of Albion – had put forward to his compatriots within the Independent Assault Teams and committed several Knightly Order companies and their assigned ships to the endeavour. These were soon joined by strike teams from the Empire of the Rising Sun and several Angmarian war-bands whose leaders had gotten wind of the plan and wanted a chance to raid the capital of EA-Russia. The original objective of the mission had been to take the leaders of the Eurasian Federation captive and have them order the armies of Eurasia to surrender. But when word from the Claymore reconnaissance teams that the Centurion had sent ahead of the main force and the Alpha Legion operatives within Moscow informed him that the leaders of the Eurasian Federation were poised to unleash a nuclear strike on the Rising Sun armies who were on the verge of taking the Japanese capital and the forces fighting in south-western China, it became a decapitation strike.

Both the EA-Russia Army divisions tasked with guarding Moscow and those who called it home would never forget the day the sky rained fire and the might of a full Knightly Order Chapter descended from the storm-dark skies on wings of steel, bringing wrath and ruin in their wake. The sheer audacity and the manner in which the attack had been carried out had earned Kouryuo's former compatriot the praise (and admonishment, for he had been requisitioning resources that could have been put to better use elsewhere) of many senior and junior warlords within the invasion force, even as it saw to the surviving leaders of the Earth Sphere strengthening the defences around their respective capitals lest they too suffer the same ignominious fate as their peers in Moscow. The images of the combined armed forces of the Earth Sphere being routed from the field in south-western China and that of Kouryuo's compatriot as he stood amidst the burning ruins of the Kremlin was a blow that was impossible for the Earth Sphere's War Ministries to parry. The speed at which they spread throughout the Solar System was beyond even SKYLAR's – the newest quantum-matrix supercomputer developed in the months before the Second Bloody Valentine War erupted – ability to stop. Awe and terror gripped billions as they watched a colossal god-monster emerge from the Stargate that hung high above the Eternal Fortress and devastate the fleeing armies of the Earth Sphere, even as despair sank her fangs deep into the hearts of every soul in the Eurasian Federation who watched the Hierarchical city of Moscow burn and its glory cast down into the mud.

Emperor Yoshiro Hantei, ruler of the Empire of the Rising Sun and blood-relative of the Mitsurugi Japanese Imperial family, had called the day _Kaminaru no Jidai _(jap: Day of Thunder) and wrote a _haiku_ to honour the men and women of the Legions whose courage had made real an impossible victory. Kouryuo looked down at his armoured forearm. Acid-etched on it was all four stanzas that the Japanese Emperor had written to commemorate that day:

**_Lion and Serpent, _**

**_Lie together under the Sakura trees,_**

**_When the storm has passed, and the sky has cleared;_**

**_Can they see the dim road that leads back to their homeland._**

In the weeks that followed, the former Supreme Lord of the Church of Lordaeron and the King of the Holy Kingdom bestowed the mantle of Divine Wolf on Kouryuo's friend. It was an act that would stoke the fires of resentment in the hearts of many of the Holy Kingdom's senior warlords and sow the seeds of a rebellion that would end the lives of many of the heroes whose suffering and tears had paved the road to the resurrection of that which had been destroyed over a thousand years ago. Their bitterness was understandable. Many Chapter Masters of the Templar Orders and the Lord Commanders of the Legions have laboured long and hard for the right to stand within the Halls of the Incumbent, and few took to seeing one who was their inferior take what they believe was rightfully theirs all too well.

Chief amongst those had been the son of the late Lord Archangel and the Crown Prince of Zeteginea, Gares. A powerful Solar with a tally of victories that made him the near equal of Ivalice's revered Thunder God, the handsome, proud son of Empress Endora had stood amongst the top five contenders for the vacant throne of the Wolf King. He had been outraged that the prize he had long coveted had been given to one not even worthy of the armour he wore. The question that had been on the tip of the prince's tongue was asked by the man who had least expected the honours that had been lavished upon him.

The answer the crimson-maned demigoddess gave surprised everyone within the Hall. Even Kouryuo had been stunned, but his suspicions had long ago been stoked when that young man was granted command of an ancient star-ship and given a priceless, deadly sword that had once been wielded by the founder of the Solar Emperor and the patron saint of the feared Judges of the Realm upon the end of his training. The brown-haired, grey-eyed young man was the descendant of both. And Fate – or rather, the machinations of the Supreme Lord of the Church of Lordaeron – had seen fit to gather the descendants of said figures in the same room on that day. Each of these had fought alongside their kinsman in the battles against the Coalition under the Lion Lord's banner prior to their redeployment to the Earth Sphere. All – even the least amongst them – had fought in some of bloodiest battles in the Conqueror War, against overwhelming odds, and won. Each had won their right to be proud and all wore the badge of the Lion Lord proudly on robe and war-plate. Kouryuo chuckled as he remembered what his friends in the other Legions had told him in regards to the reason why the army of the Lion Lord boasted a higher ratio of veterans than was normal: the clerks and logisticians in the Lion Army could give even the line troopers of the Lord Archangel's divisions a run for their money.

And some of those, the golden-haired Mage-Knight Lord knew, had indeed lost much of their monthly takings in such wagers. It was one such wager against the woman who would later be his wife that would see him given over to the Celestial Lions Knightly Order. He would never forget the annoyed look on the face of his Chapter Master and the amusement of the Ashen King's eldest son. The latter had told him in no uncertain terms that he deserved what he got for challenging one who was clearly superior to him in every way. And to add insult to injury, the young man who would later become the Witch-King of Angmar (5) told him that he had walked right into a trap months in the making. What a fool he had been. And yet, Kouryuo could not find it in himself to be angry. He fell from grace, but came to rest in the arms of his wife and children. It is a fate many of his comrades would never live to see, though their names and deeds endured in the memories of those that had lived on after them.

The Celestial Lion Mage-Knight Lord looked over his shoulder, to where the ghosts of his comrades would stand, the shades of brave men and women who nodded and smiled at him and who waited patiently for him to join them in the great feasting halls of Valhalla. One of them, clad in the ornate armour of a Death Guard Chaplain, met his gaze briefly before turning to look out the window. Kouryuo followed his gaze. What he saw was the _raison__ d'etre_of all the sacrifices that had been made on the altar: unity. Races that had long not been permitted to live in the Earth Sphere now walked openly in its streets and patronized its stores and restaurants.

"_My dream, Lord Kouryuo, was given unto me by my mentor. He gave his life so that it could be made real. I will give all the years of my own to ensure its endurance. Peace and prosperity need not end with the lives of those that made it so. It can be given unto those who believe that it deserves to endure. Ideas endure, brother. Not men. Not Empires. Not God. Ideas – and hope for a better tomorrow…"_

And it was to the children of this generation whom the Lord Mage-Knight's masters had entrusted the entirety of their labours. There were lessons to be taught still, lies to be countered and truths to be shared. And it was for that reason that he was here. A request had been made, and he had said yes. His liege lord had given his permission, and told him that it was about time that he waged a war harder than the ones he had fought on the battlefields of the Fourth Solar War.

'_Did we win, brother?'_ the shade of the Death Guard Chaplain Antonio Blanchet, his mentor, asked him, _'Do our dreams endure?'_

Kouryuo Saber smiled and nodded, "We did more than win, brother-chaplain. And our dreams do not just endure…" and he gazed upon the fountain that dominated the plaza, honouring heroes whose lives were the tempered alloy that was the beating heart and revivified soul of a new era, "They inspired…"

'_Ave Leon Caeli,'_ the Death Guard Chaplain whispered, the joyous words echoed by the hundreds of thousands of heroic souls who waited patiently for their master in Paradise, _'Ave Sol Imperium!'_

"Ave Leon Caeli," the golden-haired Celestial Lion Mage-Knight whispered as he closed his eyes, tears shed for all that had been accomplished, "Ave Sol Imperium!"

**_Chapter 11_**

**_Dreams and Memories – 7 / Sub-Rosa/  
_**

**_Enemy at the Gates/ The Hands of Fate - 1_**

**_Earth, Orb Union, Tizca City_**

**_Central Business District – Rosario Grande Restaurant_**

**_Cosmic Era 73_**

The last time Sai had sat within the well-furnished interiors of the Rosario Grande Restaurant had been in the days before the Bloody Valentine War. He had been seventeen years old then, and his parents had brought him to the high-class restaurant to celebrate both his successful application to Heliopolis's Technical College and engagement to Fllay Allster, the daughter of the now-deceased Undersecretary of the Earth Alliance. He had been a young man who, despite knowing what he wanted in life, knew nothing of how cruel it could be. Now twenty years of age and a veteran of one of the bloodiest conflicts to be fought in recent memory, the eldest son of one of the richest and most influential families in the Orb Union sat awaiting the arrival of his former classmate so that they could honour the shades of those who had died trying to bring an insane war to an end. It was a pity that it would only be the two of them. Sai had sent an invitation to Miriallia and Fllay some three months back but the two young women had turned him down. Both had good reasons for doing so.

Miriallia was on assignment in East Africa, where the war between the anti-Natural and anti-Coordinator extremist groups had escalated from tit-for-tat killings to open war. Militias aligned to either the PLANTs or the EA have engaged each other in vicious gun-battles that have left both the EA and ZAFT-aligned security forces badly mauled. Over four thousand have died in the past four months, and the numbers looked set to increase. In a rare show of unity, both the ZAFT-aligned governor of northern Somalia and the EA-appointed governor of the country's southern provinces have agreed to help one another restore order to their homeland before it was too late. But what both parties were unaware of was that the strife in Somalia was but a cover for a vicious power struggle being fought between the moderate and hardline factions within the EA. Both wanted to strengthen the power base of their respective parties, and control of the East African state would considerably improve the chances of their candidates to win – or in the case of the moderates, retain – the presidency of the EA.

But if there was one thing both factions could agree on, it was that neither wanted their onetime adversary to gain total control of the country. It would put them within striking distance of the EA-aligned Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, who was one of the three players engaged in a proxy war in the resource-rich region. The royals of the Kingdom wanted many of the East African States – including that of PAS-Egypt (6 – PAS: PLANT-Aligned State), who was the second player in the game – back under its rule, as was the case before the Reconstruction Wars saw to numerous countries – such as the Kingdom of Scandinavia, the Orb and Equatorial Union states – seceding from the Earth Defence League in its aftermath. Egypt comprised of formerly independent states such as Sudan and Ethiopia, the latter two which opted to join the first at the end of the Reconstruction Wars as it provided not only greater security, but a better chance to improve the livelihood of its citizens. Its decision to align itself with the PLANTs later on had been, despite the reservations of many groups, one that paid off handsomely. (7)

As such, PAS-Egypt's Prime Minister, Aaliyah Ibn Harafa, had neither the intention of having her country becoming part of the Arab Union as it was during her grandfather's nor did she want to see an enemy state take shape south of her country's borders. Nor did she want the extremist groups – who was the third player in the game and some of whom had relations with the powerful mega-corporations in Egypt – to get the upper hand in the conflict. While peace had been temporarily restored in the wake of a joint military operation between the EA and ZAFT forces in the region, Miriallia had told Sai that whatever control either superpower had over Somalia was tenuous at best. The reason for this was because the local security forces had been badly compromised. Supplies and weapons that been earmarked for use by the counter-insurgency divisions in the region had a tendency to end up in the hands of their enemies. Not only that, the extremists had agents and spies among a populace who wanted both the Earth Alliance and the PLANTs out of their country, and these were all too willing to carry out attacks on EA and ZAFT installations and soldiers on the behalf of their sponsors.

Miriallia had pointed out it was only a matter of time before the pro-independence Somalian militia groups, many of which had banded together to form the Somalian Liberation Army (SLA), rose up against the government. The brown-haired girl had revealed to Sai that the SLA (12) and its affiliates were one of many anti-government groups in the Earth Sphere supported both financially and logistically by the Reyguard Empire – the fourth player in the arena that was Somalia. The reason for their doing so was that the Kaiser of the Empire and his ministers had long been infuriated by the Earth Sphere's continued support of the Martian Coalition and had taken to paying its leaders out by supporting groups that challenged their rule. Somalia was but one of the many proxy battlegrounds that the Empire fought the Earth Sphere on. But where the last would discard those when they outlived their usefulness, the Empire viewed both the militia commanders and their soldiers as part of their Legions. Imperial Army veterans and Commissars sent to Earth saw to both the training and indoctrination of their allies and sent the best amongst them to fight on Mars. When these returned, they would impart everything they had learned in the crucible of a vicious war to their fellows, including the belief that their homeland would prosper if its citizens united under the banner of the Imperial Eagle.

Sai closed his eyes. Who was it that said that the dance of war, peace and revolution was an endless waltz? Was it Queen Bridget II of the Kingdom of Albion? Or was it Wang Liu-Mei, the wife of the Chapter Master Setsuna of the Reyguard Empire's Sable Swords Knightly Order (8)? Yes. Yes, the lovely and elegant Imperial politician was the one who had coined the adage.

Though many would say otherwise, there was no doubt in Sai's mind that the war so many had died trying to end two years ago was slowly being fanned back into a raging inferno. The Horsemen, whose power had been broken by the blood and tears of heroes, had turned their heads back to the Earth Sphere. What they saw there did not please them, and they were determined to rain death and ruin down upon the heads of those who thought themselves beyond punishment. Operation Frostcrown was but a desperate attempt on the part of the powers-that-be in the Earth Sphere to prevent the inevitable. An attempt that Sai's former fiancée was part of. Nostalgia made the bespectacled young man smile. The woman he had spoken to several months back was nothing like the red-haired girl his parents had introduced him to three years ago. She was no longer the spoilt, carefree girl loved by a doting father. Nor was she the manipulative, hate-filled witch (as the Crimson Queen of Orb had described Fllay) whose actions had brought death and ruin upon those she loved. The merciless crucible of the Bloody Valentine War had scourged her, and what emerged had been an individual whose pain and grief had made her into that which she now called herself when she enlisted in the Earth Army: Angel.

Sai felt his heart ache. It had been hard to let Fllay (and he would never call her by the name she now called herself) go, to bid her farewell, but neither he nor his family had any choice in the matter. The red-haired girl was no longer looking at him. Her eyes, like those of Commander Natarle's, were fixed on the distant figure of a brown-haired, violet-eyed Coordinator whose gentle smile had won the hearts of no few women and whose strength had made men aspire to greatness. The young noble put a hand over his heart. He felt something there, fierce and strong, like fire and will made manifest in flesh and blood. The strength, the conviction, the clarity of vision – all that was the last gift of a friend he would only meet in Paradise. One that he desperately wanted to hate for dying and leaving those who loved him behind but whose final moments, of his asking forgiveness of those who had fought and suffered by his side, had made doing so impossible. The anguished scream he heard in the seconds after the Freedom exploded was one that Sai would never forget for as long as he lived. It was a sound that had been voiced by countless billions across the millennia, by throats human and otherwise, as they learnt of the true depths of suffering that the universe could inflict upon them.

And it was only a matter of time before that same scream would be heard once more. The only difference was that this time, it would not bring the fighting to a screeching halt as it did back then. He remembered clearly what the Imperial emissary to Orb had told him during a state function some eight months back. The peace that Lacus Clyne had created was not one that would last. Those who had engineered the Bloody Valentine War had yet to answer for their crimes, and these were individuals and organizations whose pernicious influence was made all the more potent by the immense resources they could bring to bear on any who sought to thwart them. They, as well as the organizations they headed and the families they were part of or had married into, wanted nothing more than to win the Game of Princes.

Sai frowned. He knew what the Imperial emissary had been talking about, and understood in the latter's metaphors his despair and loathing of said game. Politics was, to quote a maxim that had been uttered by many over the centuries, a dirty game. The Game of Princes was one far worse. Here was an arena where only the ruling elite of the Solar System could be granted entry to. Here was where the reward of winning the game was a crown and absolute power, and where a single misstep in the game was to condemn the player and his or her cohorts to an ignominious death. It was for this game that the Argyle family had been preparing its many heirs for in the last two decades. Each was made to understand the responsibilities they had both to their House and to the Orb Union. And the reason why they wanted to take part in the Game of Princes was simple: they wanted to preserve the homeland that their ancestors had helped build in the years after the Second Solar War by any means necessary. Sai's arranged marriage to Fllay had been a means to that end. Had her father not died, had the marriage taken place, there was no doubt in the young noble's mind that the Scouring of Orb would have been avoided and his appointment as Orb's chief ambassador to the EA all but assured. But love and the Fates had a way of turning the schemes of powerful old men on its head and taking younger ones on roads less travelled. His decision to become a Chief Engineer in Morgenroete had not been taken all too well by his family's head, but a brief conversation in the latter's private study had ended the matter once and for all. The servants could barely believe that the boy who used to tremble in the presence of the Argyle patriarch had made the latter back down.

What had surprised Sai more than his grandfather acceding to his demands was the pride he saw in the eyes of the latter. This, the old man had said, was what it meant to be a noble. Everything that made one a member of the ruling elite – the name, the wealth, the power and the influence – was nothing if one lacked the qualities needed to be a leader of men. That was why his grandfather held the aristocrats of the Reyguard Empire and Lordaeron in higher esteem than he did those of the Earth Sphere and the Venusian Federation. Their traditions demanded that those of the blood be made worthy of their names. Male or female, it mattered not. All were sent into the crucible. For three years, these would endure hardships that would make them into worthy heirs to the thrones of their respective Houses. Those that were found wanting would find themselves either exiled from the House, their names struck from the register, or who would be reported by their Legion Commanders as missing in action – an euphemism in the Imperial and Holy Order armies as being executed for behaviour unbecoming of a noble. The one year Sai had spent aboard the _Archangel_ had not been a wasted one. It had taught him that which would stand him in good stead in the near future.

"_I fear that the future you and yours had hoped to see will not become a reality, child. It grieves me to see that the dreams and hopes of so many will be as ash in the ambitions of the mighty and the hatred of the false. But all that you shall bear witness to must come to pass, Sai Argyle. Do not avert your eyes. Do not be afraid. Steel yourself. The Horsemen ride, child, and their swords hunger for the souls of those who have sinned."_

Sai shivered as he remembered the dream he had had some weeks back. He remembered clearly the fierce embrace that drove away fear and whose voice, filled with love and grief, quiet his anger as he watched the flag of the Earth Alliance being raised over Orb's Parliament Building. He watched as those loyal to the Royal Family and to the Orb Union being arrested and imprisoned by the Union's new masters, as the technological accomplishments of his homeland's best and brightest were taken and sold to the highest bidder in exchange for economic, military and political support.

How could such a thing come to pass? Who had betrayed their country to the Earth Alliance? Sai could name many powerful and influential families within the Orb Union who would be willing to make compacts with its enemies.

"_The seeds of treachery are sown with intents both base and noble. When sown in spite and ambition, the flower that blooms will draw the attentions of those whose souls heed the voice of the Eleventh."_

The vision had changed then. He was transported to the bridge of a great, flying citadel where Kira, older than when they had parted ways for the last time, stood, surrounded by men and women clad in battle-armour adorned with the double-headed eagle and crossed thunderbolts of the Reyguard Empire and the winged crosses and acid-etched inscriptions of the Holy Kingdoms of Lordaeron. Among them were men and women clad in the regalia of the Kingdoms of Angmar, Atlantis, Valendia and the Empire of the Rising Sun. Sai swallowed. Here was an assembly of martial and mystical might that could – and most likely had – laid nations to waste and broke the back of entire armies. But the one thing that shocked Sai – the one thing that made him come to the conclusion that everything he beheld was nothing but a bad dream – was the presence of Lacus Clyne (among other familiar faces) standing next to Kira, as he gave the command for his legions to drive the armies of the Earth Alliance from Orb. (15)

The earth-shaking roar that the bespectacled young noble had heard seconds later had made him look up into – and when he was transported in an instant to one of the floating citadel's gun towers by his unknown chaperon – the blue sky where a colossal, winged serpent, the spines on its sides and back the size of mountains unleashed a blast of searing flame that devastated the EA fleet and sent a great plume of searing vapour skyward. It was only then that the massive invasion fleet swept into Orb Union-held waters, guns blazing.

Sai shook his head. It was only a dream. For goodness's sake, he was already twenty years old. For him to lose his composure the way he had and to entertain an event that was simply not possible at this point in time was embarrassing. The possibility of the Reyguard Empire and the Kingdom of Lordaeron invading the Earth Sphere was low. All their attention and resources were focused on defeating the Coalition. Only when the interplanetary anti-Imperial alliance was crushed would the Iron and Alabaster Thrones turn their gaze upon the last remaining superpower in the Solar System: the Earth Sphere. And when that happened, there was no doubt in Sai's mind that that would be the beginning of the end. The young noble had seen the size of the Empire's Conqueror Fleets and the sheer diversity of its vast armies. He and his father had watched the Imperial Legions – known better as the Thousand Scales – and its chief warlords, the Four Heavenly Dragons, bring more than half the countries and colony-kingdoms in the Solar System under the rule of the Iron Throne. And now, with the Pact of Olympus binding the Reyguard Empire to the Holy Kingdoms of Lordaeron which it had seceded from five hundred years ago in the wake of the Black Rebellion (9), it was only a matter of time before the remaining free countries within the Solar System opted to be part of the Empire or were made to join it.

Sai looked at the newspaper he had read some twenty minutes ago and wondered if it would have been better if the Earth Sphere had been a protectorate of the Empire. It being so would have resolved many of the social and political issues that had plagued the region for decades. Hardline groups like the Blue Cosmos and the Coordinator Liberation Front, whose agendas and ideologies saw to their agents fanning the embers of dissent into raging fires of bloody rebellion, would have found themselves squarely in the gun-sights of the Empire's feared Arbitrators.

"_But should, that same seed was sown in love, then Justice shall find its blade blunted and its resolve shaken. It will call upon the Twenty-Two Great Watchers of which it stands a part of to render upon cause and company a fair trial. And should either fall short, then the blade the Eleventh wields shall fall all the harder on all."_

**X X X**

**_En route to Rosario Grande Restaurant…_**

Kazui Buskirk knew he was late. He knew that his friend would kill him – and that the latter would do so in the most painful way possible. Asking the taxi driver to drive faster while being caught in a jam was asking for a death just as painful. Frustrated and unable to do anything about his current predicament, the young man sighed and leaned back in his seat. There was no helping it. Kazui pulled out his palm-top and sent Sai an SMS telling the latter that he would be late. The reply came seconds later: Sai understood – but that would not stop him from making Kazui buy them a round of Valendian spirits later.

The young man's eyebrows swallowed hard. Valendian spirits…? Oh god, no. Not that again! One of his colleagues who worked with him in the Orb branch of Interstellar Geographic (10) had brought home several bottles of the sweet but powerful beverage when he returned from his holiday to the Kingdom of Mol-Mol (11). Kazui had, on a dare, taken a shot of the drink. End result: he did not report for work the following day. Or rather, he was resting inside the facility's sick bay, moaning in agony as all the forges of Hell beat a sadistic cadence in his aching head. One glass – ONE – and he had hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. Kazui's colleagues had never let him hear the end of it.

And now, neither would Sai. Kazui could almost imagine his former schoolmate grinning like a devil, his glasses gleaming with malicious intent as the latter watched him down the drink and counting the seconds before he hit the floor with an almighty crash. If he found out that Sai had learnt of his inability to hold his liquor from his colleagues, he would find out which of them had let the cat out of the bag and proceed to visit a thousand hells on him (or her). His palm-top chimed once more, this one playing the familiar tone that he had assigned to his bureau head, and he rolled his eyes in exasperation. Could his superior not leave him alone for the next few days? He had wanted to enjoy the last days of Cosmic Era 73 in peace. Kazui pulled the earpiece and speaker from his palm-top and opened the channel.

"What took you, Kazui Buskirk?" his superior's voice was irate, "I've been trying to get you for the last ten minutes. The regional director has a job for us!"

Kazui took a deep breath and let it out slowly before replying, "You do know that my team and I are on leave, don't you, Bernard? It was approved by both you and 'Top Dog' Dallas some weeks back. And that means my team are taken off the active operations list. There had better be a good reason why the regional director in Singapore is delegating another job to us two days before Christmas."

"Is the fact that he is the regional director a good enough reason?" Kazui's branch chief asked.

"It's not. Now tell me a reason better than the one you've just told me."

It was a good minute before Kazui's superior could reply, "Oh, it is a good one, believe me. Our bosses in London have received clearance from both the Imperial and the Lordaeron embassies on PLANT Neo-Troy for us to go to their countries."

Now it was Kazui's turn to catch the cat that had run off with his tongue, "You're serious…? They actually said yes to my request?"

"You'd better bloody believe it," Kazui could almost hear the grin in Bernard's voice, "I don't know what you did and what you said to them, Kazui, but they clearly liked it enough to say yes. You make this happen, and you will see enough zeroes in that pay-cheque of yours to blow your biscuits. This is a once in a lifetime chance, Buskirk, and you got it. Oh, did you know who in the Holy Kingdom said yes to your request?"

Kazui raised an eyebrow. He was interested in knowing who had given him the green light.

"Who…?"

"You better be sitting down when I tell you."

"I am."

"The Supreme Lord of the Church of the Lordaeron himself was the one who said yes."

Kazui's jaw hit the floor with enough force to register on the Richter scale, granting said cat another chance to run away with his tongue. It took Kazui longer to catch it and skin it alive, "You're joking…"

"Do you hear me laughing, Buskirk? No, you don't. And yes, I managed to convince Director Yuan that you and your team need time off after your recent trip to Arnor and Flaim. You and the rest will be heading back to the Martian Dominions after the New Year. As such, enjoy the holidays while you can. And Kazui…" the man on the other side of the line hesitated briefly.

"Yes, sir…?"

"When you go to Lordaeron, is it possible for you to get me an Angel's Feather? My daughter would like to have one. Deliver and I will owe you one, big-time."

"As long as I can sneak one past customs, chief," Kazui replied, fighting down the urge to laugh at the image of his irascible branch chief being made the chew toy of his precocious offspring, "Anything else? A bottle of Ivalician wine, perhaps? Or that book of poetry you told me you wanted for a long time?"

"Get me the book if you can find it, and I promise that you get your choice of assignment after the one I just mentioned. Even if it means you and your team sitting around in the office doing nothing but compiling the other teams' reports…"

"Deal," Kazui grinned, "I expect you to keep your word when I deliver, Bernard. Give my regards to the family, won't you?"

"You got it. Merry Christmas, Buskirk. You did good work this year. And I expect the same on the next," the young man's superior replied before ending the call. Kazui chuckled. He had contacts within both within the Great Library of Arnor and Flaim's Desert Runner Publishing, both of whom owed him some favours. Getting the book his superior asked for would be easy. Also, there were some books Kazui wanted to acquire for the article he planned to write for the March issue for Interstellar Geographic. He remembered what Commander Murrue of the _Archangel_ – and now Supreme Commander of the SENTINELs peacekeepers – had told him about the closing days of the War of Wrath. She told him of the vicious battles that saw to fortress worlds of the Imperial Dominion falling to the wrath of its former allies. Records that had survived the passing of the centuries gave generations born after the apocalyptic conflict that destroyed the Imperial Dominion and slaughtered billions a glimpse of that bygone era and which had inspired numerous award-winning movies, novels and animated series across the decades. The best ones, in Kazui's opinion, had been '_Valkyrie's Cry: Heart under Blade'_ animated series and Seishino Haruka's gripping and well-researched _Empire in Flames_ series. The opening words of the latter were ones that made Kazui's heart race, even as it dragged him into the merciless inferno of some of the most vicious battles that endured in the memories of both the human and Gear races.

Kazui knew that the countries and kingdoms that rose and fell in the preceding centuries after the end of the War of Wrath were all but shadows of the might and splendour that had made the Solar Empire and the Imperial Dominion a galactic superpower even the Marduke – whoever they were – were reluctant to antagonize. But the desire to restore that which had been lost was evident in the ambitions of many of what Commander Murrue had called the 'successor states' of the Dominion. Of these, she had named four who had the power and resources to restore the Solar Empire: the Earth Sphere (if it managed to make an end of the divisions that weakened it in the first place), the Saturnian Free States Alliance, the Kingdoms of Angmar (which were, like the Earth Sphere, divided by internecine conflict over the Obsidian Throne) and last, but not least, the Empire of Reyguard. The sealing of the Pact of Olympus had made the Empire an invincible colossus capable of crushing its rivals.

The young man looked out the window and saw a small group of Angmarian Dark Templars, all of whom were wearing the Kingdom's signature black-and-gold lined robes of one of its Knightly Orders, speaking to several Imperial Army officers, the latter of whom were clad in the uniforms of the Imperial Fire Dragon Army. Its design, Kazui noted, was eerily similar to that worn by EA-Germany's army some ten thousand years back. But where the swastika armband had been used by the latter during that chaotic period, the ones that stood in conversation with the Angmarian Knights bore the double-headed eagle and crossed-thunderbolts of the Empire on theirs. It had been strange that in the months ever since the end of the Bloody Valentine War, Orb's War Memorial had been the site of pilgrimages made by armed forces personnel from across the Solar System. Regarded as sacred ground, none would raise arms against even their sworn enemies even if they crossed paths. The fact that they would antagonize the

Kazui had visited the Memorial often. Situated on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, with cherry blossom and maple trees turning the park into a vision of Paradise, it was the perfect place for him to gather his thoughts and to speak to the shade of his departed friend. And sometimes, when he fell asleep, his face caressed by the cool sea wind, he would see Kira standing beneath the trees, closer to the man he would become than the boy he had been. His former classmate was clad in the blue and gold-lined robes of a Knightly Order Chapter Master. Belted to his side was a sword Kazui had seen in the hands of the protagonist of a recently completed animated series about the first Gear-Human War fought over ten millennia ago: the Thunderseal. The ancient weapon rested in a black and silver scabbard adorned with the motifs of the feared Aconite Lions that had once roamed the forests and ruined cities of Earth some twelve thousand years ago as well as the emblem of the Church of Lordaeron.

Kira had not been alone under the sakura trees. There were well over a dozen other men and women with him, some of whom he knew by face and name, others whose identities were lost to him. But one thing was for certain – each and every individual who surrounded Kira was one whose ire was one deadly to both prince and pauper and whose strength was that by which legends were made. Clad in the regalia and livery of countries and kingdoms beyond the Earth Sphere, it was a gathering of might unlike any seen since the War of Princes when the young Bernhardt Glastheim, now the Kaiser of Reyguard, gathered a host of heroes to tear his uncle down from the Iron Throne. Kazui would have dismissed the dream as he had so many others had it not been for steely talons that bit deep into his shoulders, forcing him to bear witness to the oath that was sworn under those trees and before the memorial of a kneeling angel clad in ornate battle-plate and wielding a sword. He swallowed when he saw just who the stone angel had been made in the image of: the Crimson Queen of Orb, Cagalli Zala. Behold, Kazui's captor had whispered in his ear, the moment which will cement the rule of the Iron and Alabaster Thrones in the Earth Sphere for generations to come.

**X X X**

**_At the Rosario Grande Restaurant_**

Sai poured himself another cup of Earl Grey. As far as he knew, there were altogether FOUR factions in the Earth Sphere vying for dominance. Foremost amongst them was LOGOS (13), a secret society whom the late Murata Azrael, a prominent Blue Cosmos leader and the CEO of the Atlantic National Defence Conglomerate (ANDC) had been part of. The organization was, if the Desert Tiger was to be believed, one whose beginnings predated the War of Wrath. The ranks of the organization was replete with powerful men and women who believed that the only way the Solar Empire could be restored was if its throne-worlds and colonies were unified under their rule and cleansed of the taint of the heretic. It was an archaic label that both the anti-Gear and anti-Coordinator extremist groups had used over the centuries to describe those who were either not human or who had forsook their humanity in order to become more than what God would allow. That label was soon expanded to include those who had tainted the purity of the human genome by intermarriage with humanity's ancient enemies, the Gears.

The young, bespectacled noble looked out the window. In the entirety of the Earth Sphere, there was only a handful who could claim descent from such a union – and many of these chose to live at the periphery of the Earth Sphere, where their physical attributes and abilities would not earn them the hostility that they would otherwise receive in the region's core. That, however, did not stop the extremists from getting to them. Anti-Coordinator and anti-Natural groups both saw the presence of the Scions (as the children of human-Gear unions were called) within the Earth Sphere as a threat to their ascendancy and went out of their way to ensure that they were removed from the field by means both fair and foul. As such, only the ones that were the most human in outlook worked within the Earth Sphere, advancing the agendas of clan, country and mega-corporation. It had surprised Sai to learn just how many pure-strain Gears and Scions served in the ranks of the Clyne faction (13). Many of these served aboard the ships of the Clyne Faction's Heavy Assault Fleet and on the star-base where said ships were docked, while other served as the songstress's agents outside the Earth Sphere. They, like their human counterparts within the faction, were determined to change the political and social landscape of the Earth Sphere and to make strong the arch that their enemies sought to destroy.

As such, it had led Sai to wonder as to why Lacus Clyne had passed over the Chairmanship of the PLANTs in favour of Gilbert Dullindal, who had then been President of the PLANT-aligned states of the Oceania Union. Had she accepted the position proffered upon her by the Provisional Council of the PLANTs, she would have been able to achieve that which she and her father had worked long years to make real. Sai's grandfather had told him that only a fool would grant his enemies – or potential ones, in this particular case – the tools and resources by which the latter could lay him low. And Lacus Clyne was most certainly NOT a fool. If anything, she was as wily as the one she had raised to power. The ancient and much-revered Chinese military strategist, Sun Tzu, had once written that all war was deception. In this arena was the songstress a formidable foe for any that chose to oppose her.

Andrew Bartfeld, the Desert Tiger of ZAFT and appointed Supreme Commander of the Clyne faction's armies, had said that if Lacus had been part of ZAFT High Command's Strategic Operations Command, the war between the Earth and the PLANTs would have ended within months of the Junius-7 Massacre. Her modus operandi, the scarred commander said, was similar to the doctrines practiced by the Reyguard Empire's Alpha Legion (14). Lacus had believed in attacking one's enemies from several directions at once. Such stratagems required careful planning and skilful infiltration. As a result, the faction made extensive use of spies and misdirection in order to remain several steps ahead of their enemies. Such tactics had allowed Lacus and her father to elude the HISA (Homeland Internal Security Agency) kill-teams two years ago when the hardliners on the PLANTs took power. Now, that network was used to build an armada the equal of an EA sector fleet, even as it was used to lead the SENTINELs and the Cerberus anti-terrorist agency to the lairs of those whose goals ran counter to the wishes of those they purported to protect.

Castle Ikaruga, one of the three greater star-bases which the Clyne faction's Junker allies had managed to acquire on the songstress's behalf, had held among the dozen others no less than seven ships of a class that was rarely seen within the borders of the Earth Sphere. Four were cruisers used as line ships by the colony-kingdoms of Angmar, while the remaining three were frigates primarily used as reconnaissance ships and escorts by both the Reyguard Empire and the Holy Kingdoms of Lordaeron. Without the Desert Tiger needing to tell him, Sai could tell from the composition of the squadron that it was a rapid-response strike force – one whose sole purpose was to swiftly reinforce the small fleet that had been tasked with the songstress's safety and, if need be, to swiftly bring her to the one place in all the Earth Sphere where she could be safe. Where that was, the Desert Tiger would not tell him, save that it was where the third and fourth squadrons – larger than the one he saw in Castle Ikaruga – were based, and where the remnants of a legendary army had made as their primary stronghold.

Sai could not help but wonder what the Desert Tiger was talking about. Remnants of a legendary army…? Which one was he talking about? Though not as into military matters as much as the ex-ZAFT Commander and his peers were, the young noble knew several mercenary and state military outfits whose exploits had earned them a fearsome reputation across the Solar System and whose services were very much in demand. Many of these were decimated in the conflicts that have been raging both within and outside the Earth Sphere for the past decade and were subsequently disbanded, its last members going their separate ways. Had the Clyne faction's agents been recruiting the survivors of said outfits into its ranks? If so, which ones? It was certainly a better choice than bolstering its ranks with mercenaries or recruiting from the rank and file of any of the Earth Sphere's armed forces.

Nonetheless, the sword that the Clyne heiress and her lieutenants were forging was one that cut both ways. Should word get out that the songstress was building an army and was utilizing technology banned by numerous regional and interplanetary treaties, there would be hell to pay.

The young noble closed his eyes. He remembered the songstress outlined against the star ocean, her lithe frame shaking as she wept for both Kira and the countless thousands whose blood was the ink and impetus upon which a peace treaty had been made. He chuckled, the sound bitter and cutting. Hell to pay? The songstress had already been there and paid its gatekeeper several times over for the right to pull eighty billion souls out of the fire the extremists on both the PLANTs and Earth were determined to plunge the region into. And if she had to do it again a second time, she might as well have the tools by which to do so. And truth be told, it was not as if the other countries in the Earth Sphere were abiding by the clauses in the peace treaty anyway. Doing so meant giving their adversaries the upper hand, and that was something that could not be tolerated. There could only be one winner in the Game of Princes after all. And Sai Argyle was determined, if the Fates would stand by him and make it so, that Lacus Clyne would be that winner.

**X X X**

**_Outside the Rosario Grande Restaurant_**

Kazui paid the cab driver and emerged from the taxi. He whistled as he took in the posh exteriors of the Rosario Grande Restaurant. Now this was the kind of place where only those with the money could eat at on a weekly, if not daily, basis. A full eight-course meal at the Rosario Grande could easily cost a middle-class family the better part of its monthly takings. As he walked to the entrance of the restaurant, he paused briefly at the nearby kiosk, his eyes taking in the headlines of several magazines and newspapers on displayed on the shop's panels.

Excerpts from the Atlantic Daily featured articles about the growing influence of the United Earth Front (16) and its leader, Howard T. Ackerman, a powerful right-wing EA senator whom many political analysts believed would most likely replace President Copeland in the coming elections, and the recent visit by Duchess Jane Judith Jocelyn of Albion (17) to the Earth Alliance capital of Washington D.C. Beneath it was a cut-out of a newspaper article from a week back, celebrating the birth of the Orb Union's royal heirs and of an emissary from the Reyguard Empire arriving at the hospital, bearing gifts from its sovereign. Kazui smiled; he remembered the thunderous cheers that shook Tizca City when a spokesperson for the royal family made the announcement. Now that had been a good week, free of the doom and gloom that had darkened the moods of thousands across the Earth Sphere. Kazui turned his attention to the second panel, which featured excerpts from the Eurasian Times. One of said extracts described the growing number of people who supported the separatist groups who demanded that the Eurasian Federation break away from the Atlantic Federation in retaliation for the latter's treachery during the Bloody Valentine War. Another extract, this one from the Asian Regional News (which was the Asian regional branch of the Atlantic Times) described the growing rift within the Republic of East Asia. China had accused Korea and Japan of acquiring technology that was banned by interplanetary treaty (18). Tokyo and Seoul had denied the accusations and had gamely countered by asking Beijing why it was building up its regional armies. Was China hoping to restore the hegemony it once ruled in the years of the Second Solar War? Or did it wish to become the new seat of EA power?

Kazui snorted. He was not surprised if either was the case. China, like Korea and Japan, had once wielded immense power and had ruled over vast swathes of Asia in the decades after the end of the War of Wrath. All three countries had waged wars to protect – and to expand – their territories. But unlike its two neighbours, China had had the strength to hold onto its conquests for generations until civil strife weakened its hegemony and caused many of the states that now formed the Equatorial Union to declare independence. It was that memory, more than anything else, which drove both the citizens and ruling elite of EA-China to reclaim that which their ancestors had lost. And if their recent comments and actions were anything to go by, the Chinese were all too willing to upturn the table so as to alter the balance of power in the Earth Sphere.

The young man shivered. Try as he might to hope that the powers-that-be in the Earth Sphere would prevent another war from erupting, he knew that it was a lost cause. Pride and ambition had clouded the judgment of so many that the voices of those who wished for peace were drowned out by those who wished to raise the flags of their respective countries and ideologies over those who would not kneel before them. The dull rumble of plasma engines caused Kazui to look skywards, where three _Behemoth_-class battlecruisers soared overhead, the sunburst and inverted wing of the Orb Union gleaming proudly on their armoured hulls. Kazui raised his hand quickly to ward away the sun's glare, only to see that the emblems of his country had changed into the blue and white emblems of the Earth Alliance – and that the three battlecruisers had become a full armada of dozens (15), their guns turned towards a threat only they could see. The illusion lasted only for as long as it took Kazui to blink, but he felt a heavy but invisible hand resting on his shoulders, the soft, familiar voice he had heard in his dreams whispering in his ear a dark, terrible promise.

"_All that you fear will come to pass, for the wicked must win the laurel so as to drive the good and the wronged to vengeance."_

**(O)**

**_Johannesburg, capital of the South African Union_**

**_ESNN Building, War Correspondents Division_**

Miriallia Haw read the e-mail that Murrue Ramius, Supreme Commander of the SENTINELs, had sent her some hours back. Apparently, her sharing what she had found out during her covering the conflict in East Africa had unnerved not only the former captain of the _Archangel_, but also its former First Officer (who now commanded the first of the EA's new _Archangel_-class assault carriers, the _Shield of Destiny)_ and the renowned Hawk of Endymion, Mwu la Flaga (whom Miriallia heard has been appointed Admiral of the SENTINEL 4th Fleet). The journalist did not blame them. It had chilled Miriallia to the bone to see Kira – or someone who looked just like him – standing amidst the cheering insurgents of the Genesis's Light anti-Natural faction. The emblem on his Gundam – a replica of the Duel still piloted by Admiral Yzak Joule of ZAFT – belonged to that of a mercenary group known as the Black Lions (19). A brief inquiry into its service record had revealed that the 300-strong unit had fought in no less than two hundred battles against the armies of the Martian Coalition since its inception in May last year. It had, during that time, demolished two larger mercenary companies that had been employed by the latter: the _yakuza_-aligned Red Butterflies and the Steel Corsairs, the latter of whom had several squads of Angmarian Dark Templars in their ranks.

For a unit that boasted less than a thousand and had been registered with the Guild of Mercenaries for less than three years, a combat record the likes of which Miriallia had perused spoke volumes of the Black Lions' capabilities. Miriallia's contact within the Guild had told her that the Black Lions were among the few Tier-1 mercenary units that owned its own starship, something their rivals (for any alliance between any mercenary groups were temporary ones) in the first and second tiers could only acquire after years of hard work. Other contributing factors to their owning a ship may well be due to the favours owed them as well as their astronomically high contract fees. It had shocked Miriallia that many had been all too willing to pay the Black Lions for their services. Numbered among them had been another mercenary cum rogue trader merchant group – the Wreckers Corp Incorporated (who had wanted their rivals to pay dearly for their interfering with their company's affairs) and Lordaeron's Forgemaster, the powerful and influential Baron Gerald Barrington (who had been interested in an item that had been on auction in the Five Peaks colony-cluster).

But none of them had interested Miriallia in the least. Their actions had little to no impact on the Earth Sphere. It was the Black Lions' most recent employer that had caught her attention: Mechanicum International. The IT and arms manufacturer for the PLANTs had been marked by both the SENTINELs and the EA's Cerberus anti-terrorist agency as being a front company for the Genesis's Light extremist faction, a charge that the directors and owners of the corporation denied vehemently. While there was no conclusive proof linking the company to the terrorist group, Miriallia's friend inside Cerberus had told her that it was only a matter of time before the region's anti-terrorist and law-enforcing agencies amass enough evidence to throw Mechanicum International's leaders and their affiliates into Guantanamo Bay prison.

The honey-haired correspondent doubted it. Mechanicum International had many powerful backers on both the PLANTs and on Earth who had no wish to see a profitable business relationship go down the drain. These would not hesitate to use means both fair and foul to ensure that their investments – and their reputations – were not put at risk. Miriallia had lost count of the number of times a powerful corporate head or politician had gotten away scot-free due to a technicality in the court proceedings or because of the intercession of their patrons. It made Miriallia remember a line her literature teacher had paraphrased from an age-old classic: all men were equal, but some were more equal than others.

"_Never forget that justice and the law are two different things entirely. Justice is intent and consequence. The law is the discourse which directs and gives justice its shape and form. But where justice cannot be bought or swayed, the same cannot be said of the law. The latter is a thing made by men. As such, it is an imperfect thing and can fail in its intended function. I need not wax lyrical of incidents and events where the law has failed. Rather, I will tell you that those who twist the laws to their own ends often find that the repercussions for doing so can be…severe." _

Miriallia turned her gaze to the latest copy of the African Times, where an article published about the recent arrest of a wealthy former multi-billionaire, Abraham Magombe, had been arrested by the feared Imperial Arbitrators of the Reyguard Empire for human, arms and extra-regional technological trafficking. The dark-skinned African man was surrounded by grim, black-armoured enforcers who clutched suppression shields and shock mauls as they escorted their bound charge to the ship which would bring him to the penal colony where he would live out the rest of his natural life. He was a lucky man, in that he had been brought down by the colleague of the magistrate who had crushed the syndicate. Magombe's compatriots were not so fortunate. These and their bodyguards had found themselves surrounded and slaughtered by the magistrate and his retinue. And when one took into consideration the transgressions of these men and women, Miriallia was of the mind that they got off lightly.

"_Justice neither forgives nor forgets, Miriallia. It cannot be bought. It does not fear. It will never relent until the object of its wrath has had its punishment meted out to it. That is why the wicked fear it so. Justice has been likened to a pack of hounds that will stop at nothing to see its prey run into the ground."_

The honey-haired correspondent stood up and walked towards the window where she watched the sun dip behind the city skyline. The words of her teacher echoed in her ears with the weight of a prophecy. Miriallia closed her eyes, remembering the dream she had had some months back. It was a vivid thing, an omen writ in flame. She had found herself on the bridge of the _Archangel_, acting once more as the ship's CIC officer, looking up at the main screen, where the sneering face of an EA Commander demanded that the SENTINEL and renegade Orb forces lay down their arms or be destroyed by the joint Earth Sphere fleet. Commander Murrue Ramius looked at her EA counterpart with disgust as she gave her answer – one that an echoed across the long centuries since it was voiced by an ancient King of Sparta to the Persian emissary its Emperor had sent to persuade the Greek King to surrender (15):

**"_Come and get them."_**

**X X X**

**_En route to Tokyo, capital of EA-Japan, _**

**_ETA two hours_**

If there was one thing Kisaragi Ayumi liked about being a mercenary, it was that one had access to resources that the common masses did not. A private room aboard the swift, five-star luxury SIA airship, the _Blue Swan_ (which was no doubt named after the infamous Valendian courtesan whom the theocrats of the colony-kingdoms of Lonaria wanted arrested) stood at the top of the list. Having a secure, real-time conversation with her contact within the Holy Kingdom of Lordaeron was a close second. It had taken Ayumi the better part of three hours – time she could have spent resting – to fulfil the promise she had made to her employer in the Iron Throne Junkers Guild.

"Bargained well and done, Lady Ayumi. I will extend our hand to your employer," the robed official said, "It will benefit us to have another…pair of hands and ears within the Earth Sphere. With the Holy Kingdom about to embark on a war, we are in dire need of such. Also, before I forget, my mistress extends her thanks. The mission you undertook on her behalf has allowed us to do away with those whose actions have eroded the authority of the Alabaster Throne."

The curvaceous, golden-haired treasure hunter hid her sneer behind her locked hands. That mission, if it could be called that, had been an extermination of men and women who wanted to make their country a better place –one where the whims of nobles did not degrade those beneath them. She had seen and heard one too many stories of how Lordaeron's ruling elite broke the laws they made. Already, several of said nobles had aroused the ire of the interplanetary law-enforcing agencies and a handful had made it into the gun-sights of some of its most feared agents.

"Think nothing of it, my lord. It was most profitable for me as well. They were holding on to technology that the Maestro of the Junkers Guild wanted returned to the Vaults – and one does not say no to that woman if one wishes to remain in her good graces," Ayumi replied, "Until then, Lord Kurashi."

"Until then, Ayumi of the Blades," the man replied before terminating the connection, "God go with you."

The screen dissolved into static, and a gentle touch to the button atop the retractable screen saw to it being withdrawn into the console. Ayumi leaned back in the chair and turned her gaze to the moonlit expanse of the ocean of clouds the airship sailed through. It was a majestic, breath-taking sight, one that made Ayumi remember the dream she had had. She had remembered looking down on the face of a young man, his face peaceful in slumber, his brown locks caressed both by her hand and by the night wind. The treasure hunter was not alone in that moonlit paradise. There were others there as well, some of whom she knew by face and name, others not so. She had seen the fearsome walking genocides of the Mikagami family there, their ever-present blades resting beside them, sitting under sakura trees and sharing a bottle of high-quality sake that would cost a working man the better part of his month's takings. She saw a powerfully-built, brown-haired man with grey eyes, clad in the robes normally worn by Lordaeron's Throne Guard elite, playing a game of chess with another man, this one leaner but just as sturdy, wearing the uniform of the Imperial Arbitrators. The two were surrounded by their compatriots, several of whom were watching the two men play while the others rested on the soft grass and allowed the world to turn as it may for the next few, precious hours (23).

She saw a beautiful, red-haired woman her age with beautiful red-gold wings and grey eyes, wearing a low-cut, backless kimono that accentuated curve and cleavage, walk towards her. A sword had been tucked into the sash of the latter, the ornate sheath adorned with precious metals and jewels that made the treasure hunter's larcenous heart race. The woman, an Empress clad in gold-veined white flame, nodded to Ayumi in greeting before turning her gaze to someone behind her. The treasure hunter followed the red-haired angel's gaze, and saw that another stood behind her. One that Ayumi had met briefly during her stint as a bodyguard for an EA politician at the First Memorial Ceremony and whose decision to rebel against the Zala administration (and by extension, the Blue Cosmos-dominated EA Senate) had made her a beloved figure across the Solar System: Lacus Clyne.

It did not take Ayumi long to realize, however, that the pink-haired woman behind her was not the songstress. For one, Lacus Clyne was not a Gear. This one was. The golden-brown pinions that stretched from the back of this 'Lacus' was part of a physiology and not an implant, as was the case with the red-haired noble that now stood over her. And there was something else, something that made Ayumi shiver despite herself. The White Princess of the PLANTs did not have the dark, sensuous aura that surrounded her black-and-gold clad twin. Nor did she bear upon her lush, strong body the gleaming tattoo of a crimson-eyed, silver serpent which only served to increase the seductive allure of a demonic angel whose wiles and power could lay saints and seraphs alike low.

And Ayumi had remembered the manner in which her dream-self had addressed the False Lacus: sister. (15)

"Sister, eh…?" the golden-haired treasure hunter whispered to the empty room, as bitter memories rose from the shallow grave from which they were buried. She had heard it said that money couldn't buy happiness, but it was a proven fact that it could end it. Friendships and marriages have ended because of it. Countries have been ruined because its coffers were empty. The gates of a home would be locked because its inhabitants thought you unworthy of its legacy (24). Ayumi looked at the sigil of her family, embossed on the belt buckle and on the sheaths of her precious gun-blades.

'_Just you wait, you arrogant shits. I'll show you that an 'unworthy bastard child' like me can make my way in the world, and do it better than you!'_

**(O)**

**_Glastheim, Mars_**

**_Capital of the Reyguard Empire_**

**_Brotherhood of Nod Headquarters_**

Director-General Reginald Glastheim (26) slammed his fist down on the lectern as he watched unit icon after unit icon blink out. His anger was understandable and was shared by his subordinates, the latter of whom were trying to confirm and correlate the reports their field agents were sending them and updating both the Empire's War Ministry and their commanders of the field. Nothing in said reports painted a pretty picture. The Coalition armies were making much headway in their shattering the Imperial battle-lines and fortifications and there was nothing he could do about it. Certainly, the Imperial commanders were responding magnificently, launching vicious counterattacks and bringing the weight of their long-range armaments to bear on the enemy hordes, but it was akin to fighting an Aconite Lion with a combat knife. Ten inches of mono-edged steel had nothing on twelve inch talons capable of tearing through reinforced steel plate like paper. The dark-haired Director-General turned towards another panel and opened up several screens, this one detailing the Imperial forces that were currently engaged or were en route to help their brothers break the assault.

Prince Erwin, the third Prince of the colony-kingdoms of Baldea, was organizing the defences on the eastern front, where the fighting was heaviest. It was there that the legions of the former Imperial realm of Arnor engaged their former brothers in battle. Reginald frowned; Arnor was still ruled by the sons and daughters of both Archduke Roderick and Crown Prince Davion Glastheim. Those who refused to bend knee before Reyguard's current ruler had fled to Arnor, lending their strength to those who wished to see the Iron Throne's current incumbent overthrown.

Reginald tapped on the Arnorian divisions that were advancing on New Rynn City and the Chapter fortress of the Crimson Fists Knightly Order, Arx Tyrannus. Smaller screens opened as the province's Omni-Sensor Array processed his request, acquired the information he requested and displayed it to him all in the space of a heartbeat. The Director-General of the Brotherhood of Nod frowned briefly as he remembered the report an Alpha Legion cell within the Earth Sphere had sent him regarding the Earth Sphere's newly-created SKYLAR network. To call the SKYLAR system a work of art was an understatement. It was…sentient. When the AI of the Empire's Omni-Sensor Array, which the Founder of the Empire Gara Glastheim (27) had named the AI after the Mesopotamian goddess of sexual love, fertility and warfare, Inanna (25), the latter had found itself staring into a circle of no less than 7 separate AIs. Inanna had quickly broken the link before the 7 Earth Sphere AIs could break into the Imperial network and monitored all data-traffic between the Empire and the Earth Sphere.

'_7 Deity-class level AIs guards the Earth Sphere's data networks. Any attempt on our part to penetrate and circumvent the SKYLAR network is doomed to failure. Unless we acquire the codes that will allow us to bring the system under our control, it is best we focus our efforts on ensuring that the Earth Sphere does not attempt to penetrate our data-banks and make away with weapon schematics and classified documents."_

Inanna, AI of the Reyguard Empire, had done so by creating lesser Avatar-level AIs for said task. Several of the more powerful AIs were assigned to the four prime legions of the Empire: the Blue Dragon Royal Knights, led by Legion Master Leon Angelos; the Sea Dragon armada, an elite star-fleet led by Grand Admiral Imelda Krieger; the Black Dragon Army, of which the Brotherhood of Nod was part of, led by Prime Minister Eckhart Steiner and the Fire Dragon Imperial Legion, led by Lord Commander Vargas Esplanade (20). The less powerful AIs were spread throughout the Imperial network with directives to erect defensive firewalls and create programs designed to foil any attempt by the Empire's enemies from hacking into said network.

"Director…?" the voice of Captain Ella Krieger caused Reginald to look up into the gleaming eyes of a Draenei Gear who was clad in the black-and-silver uniform of a Brotherhood of Nod Intelligencer. Ella had served as Reginald's aide-de-camp for over a decade and was amongst one of the few within the organization that the Director-General trusted.

"Yes, Ella?" the Director-General of the Brotherhood had heard an inflection – and the edge – in the voice of his second-in-command, one he knew from experience that the latter was in possession of knowledge that would make an already bad day worse.

"Alpha Legion operatives from within Gallia have just sent in a report," and the woman handed her superior a data-slate, "You might want to see this. And before you ask: yes, it is important. Time stamp indicates that the picture was taken some four days ago, before the signing of the Pact of Olympus."

The data-slate held a picture, one that would spell the end of the Empire's diplomatic efforts to bring the Kingdom of Gallia into the Empire. Reginald had long-suspected that the ruler of Gallia, the Crown Princess Cordelia de Randgriz, had been a puppet of its Lord Regent and this all but proved it. He turned towards his second-in-command, "Call the Prime Minister and tell him that I want to speak to him as soon as possible. Inform our ambassadors in Gallia to return to the capital immediately. Tell them that the order comes directly from Lord Eckhart himself."

"And the Legion operatives…?"

Reginald studied the picture of Gallia's Lord Regent, Maurits von Borg, shaking the hand of the Kingdom of Arnor's chief emissary, Duchess Estelle Rutherford, once more. It was tempting to have the Alpha Legion operatives in Gallia make an attempt on the life of its Lord Regent, but it would serve no purpose other than to harden the will of its people and put steel in the spines of its highborn elite. No, Maurits von Borg would serve the Imperial cause better by living. The arrogant noble would do what the hosts and the hidden blades of the Empire could not: weaken the Coalition from within (21).

"Have them return to what they have been tasked with doing. When the time comes, His Majesty will have need of them."

**X X X**

**_Arx Tyrannus, Mars_**

**_Crimson Fist Imperial Knightly Order Legion Fortress_**

**_Strategic Command Centre_**

**_At that very moment_**

Legion Master Frederick Kantor of the Crimson Fists studied the Strategic Holographic Display. He, like countless other warlords loyal to the Iron Throne, disliked what he saw even as his mind tried to grasp the impossibility of what was taking place before his very eyes. The murmurs of disbelief from the powerfully-built Legion Master's subordinates echoed the unease he felt inside. In less than twenty-four hours, the Coalition had managed to practically tear the Imperial battle-lines to pieces and strike deep into Imperial territory. Several frontier cities were already under attack, and its defending garrisons were retaliating to the best of their ability. Those units broken at the onset of the Coalition blitzkrieg had reformed and were striking back with everything they had, so as to give their fellows time to fall back to designated cities and strongholds that served as rally points in the event a disaster of the magnitude they now stared in the face of should ever come to pass.

But one thing disturbed the grey-haired Legion Master of the Crimson Fists. Before he had lost communications with Castle Iron Eagle, the Castellan of the fortress had told him that both his citadel was being bombarded from a distance by accurate, long-range artillery strikes that had crippled the stronghold's ability to fend off the Coalition assault that came some three hours later. It had confused Frederick at first. Castle Iron Eagle had boasted no less than three large artillery installations, one of which had a range in excess of a thousand kilometres and which could deliver a payload capable of destroying anything within a three-hundred metre radius, as well as a Tactical Missile Launcher which could fire a long-range cruise missile to ranges up to two thousand kilometres. As such, it stood to reason that Castle Iron Eagle, like its sister fortresses, should have been able to retaliate or initiate a preliminary strike on any Coalition stronghold or strike force that posed a threat to it.

But it hadn't. Rather, it couldn't. In the seconds before the enormous shell had smashed into Castle Iron Eagle's void shields (and tore right through it upon impact), the Empire's Omni-Sensor Array network had picked up a projectile being fired from deep within Coalition territory. His eyes widened as he remembered the intelligence reports he had received from both the Alpha Legion and the Brotherhood of Nod regarding an experimental super-weapon being constructed by the Coalition. Was that what was being turned on the Imperial forces in the region? Everything he was seeing pointed to that conclusion.

Frederick turned towards his First Captain, "Assemble my War Council and raise Rynnland's Defence Condition status to one, Ralf. Martial law is hereby declared in all cities. Natasha," the Crimson Fist Legion Master turned to the woman standing on his left, "…inform the commanders of the Strike Cruisers _Divine Whirlwind_, _Storm Bearer,_ _Sol Invictus _and _Imperious_ to begin combat operations against the Coalition forces on Mars. We must arrest their advance before they gain a foothold within His Majesty's domain."

"Shall I send a request for aid to the Holy Order armies and ships that are closest to the besieged provinces as well, Lord Kantor?" the red-haired woman asked her superior.

Frederick did not reply for several minutes as he pondered the consequences of doing so. Asking for aid from his Holy Order counterparts would be prudent; it would reduce the losses already suffered by the Empire in the Coalition blitzkrieg. Another part told him that this was a mess that the Empire's generals would have to clean up themselves; it was bad form to call upon aid so early in the game. There was one way he could ask for help without causing both his Kaiser and his compatriots to lose face.

The Crimson Fist Legion Master smiled, "Send out an invitation to our new allies, Natasha. Tell them that if they want to show the Coalition trash how Lordaeron wages war, this is their chance."

**X X X**

**_Castle Crimsonheart _**

**_Imperial Panzer Elite Battle-group Lehr division Base_**

**_12 hours after the Imperial battle-lines are breached…_**

For the first time in his 25 years in service to the Iron Throne, Major-General Albrecht Lehr, Castellan of Castle Crimsonheart and commander of the 28th Imperial Panzer Elite battle-group, found himself at an utter loss of words at the scale of the disaster that he was beholding. This was a catastrophe on a scale that would send the Imperial Commissariat on a witch-hunt to punish those whose negligence had brought it about. And that was if they got to them before the Kaiser did. If there was one thing that the obsidian-skinned Nazzadi (28) commander knew about his sovereign, it was that the latter had a habit of punishing those who were found wanting himself rather than letting the Commissariat do it for him. The pressure doors to the castle's command centre hissed open, causing Albrecht and the few battalion commanders that remained within the fortress looked up from the strategic display. Standing at the entrance to the command centre was a blonde-haired woman clad in the dark blue battle-plate of the Crimson Fists Imperial Knightly Order, the rank markings and chapter sigils marking her as an officer under the command of Chapter Master Nero Samarkand. Flanking the female Knightmaster on either side were members of her seven-man command squad who, like their captain, were armed and ready for war.

"I bid you and yours welcome to Castle Crimsonheart, Captain Reina Vance (29)," Albrecht addressed the woman as she strode into the command centre, "I apologize if our hospitality is somewhat lacking, but the situation right now is…"

"Appalling," the golden-haired woman finished, "I had returned to our Empire's heartlands hoping that my warriors and I could finally get some well-deserved rest after aiding my former classmate (30) and his compatriots in their smashing that criminal syndicate, but I see that is no longer possible. You need not furnish me the details, Commander Albrecht. Our Empire's Guardian AI has seen to that. What I want to know is how did this happen."

"We received reports from the Brotherhood of Nod and the Alpha Legion operatives within the Coalition that the Kingdom of Arnor has managed to construct an experimental super-weapon of some kind using Standard Construction Templates they have managed to acquire from one of the Junker Guilds."

"What kind?"

"It is possible, Lady-Knight Vance," one of Albrecht's sub-commanders replied, "that said templates may well be to fabricate a Heavy Artillery installation capable of delivering a payload at extreme ranges with pinpoint accuracy. Here – this is a picture taken of the attack that destroyed the command centre of Fortress Vanguard… "

The Crimson Fist captain took the data-slate, and her eyes widened as she watched the void-shielded and heavily-armoured command tower of one of the most heavily-defended strongholds in the Arnorian-Imperial border shatter under a meteor – as to describe it as anything else was to insult the sheer power behind it – that tore through its defensive shields, reinforced armour and bracing, and the buildings behind it.

"One of the Brotherhood agents had codenamed the Coalition super-weapon as MAVOR," the same officer continued.

"MAVOR…?"

"It's an acronym for Meteoric Assault Vector Operational Artillery." (31)

"A fitting name for such a devastating weapon," Reina replied as she returned the data-slate to the Panzer Elite officer, "How long ago was that report, colonel?"

"…five months ago."

"Five months ago," the blonde-haired Knight's right eyebrow twitched, and her expression became wrathful, "Why was nothing done to prevent this? Was Lord General Artix Krieger unaware that the enemy was in the midst of building a weapon that could change the course of the Conqueror War in a single stroke? And why did the Alpha Legion do nothing to prevent that transaction?"

"Because doing so would endanger our Empire's dealings with the Junkers and Mercenary Guilds, Reina," a cool voice spoke, causing the female Knight to meet the gaze of one she had no wish to see: her elder sister, Claudette Vance (29). The latter was clad in ornate emerald green and gold-inlaid battle-plate of the Salamanders Knightly Order, the Royal Guard of the Capital, and was armed with a grand Daiklave. Red locks tumbled and framed a stern face that reminded the blonde-haired second daughter of the Vance noble family of her classmate at his worst. It had surprised Reina that Claudette managed to get on well with her classmate, despite the latter's penchant for using the book that the second so revered as toilet paper.

"Claudette," Reina snorted, "I take it that father sent you here?"

"Indeed. You have proven to be quite troublesome, little sister. Running off to aid your classmate take down that detestable organization was – and is – a feather in your cap and a stern warning to those who would flout the laws of our Empire, but such duties are the province of the Arbitrators. You are the mailed fist of the Empire, Reina. You are not one of its hounds. Yours is the duty to take the battle to the enemies of the Empire wherever they may be."

"And those worms were not the enemies of our Kaiser?"

"Like I said, sister, I have no issue – nor does your Chapter or your Legion Master – with what you have done. It is that your strength could have been better put to use elsewhere. But enough of this; I am here to help you resolve the issue at hand. Reina, I need you to bring your ships down from orbit immediately. We will have need of them when we go to send the Coalition trash running back to their mothers with their tails between their legs. Major-General, how goes the reconstitution of the forces routed from the front?"

Albrecht let out a slow breath as he collected his thoughts and gave thanks to Odin that the Salamander Chapter Master had chosen to focus on the matter at hand than to resolve the feud the two clearly had, "These units will be able to return to the field within six hours, Dame Claudette," and he opened another holographic screen and pulled several unit icons from another screen to it, "Of the ten, three are KMF squadrons. Four are mechanized heavy infantry. The remainder are Armour and Artillery companies."

"Do we have any aerial assets in the sector? Ones that have not been torn to pieces…?"

"Yes," the Nazzadi Castellan replied, and he tapped on the icon of one of the KMF (32) units, "A Legion from the vassal kingdom of Kazlas was en route to the front when the Coalition launched their attack. The Silver Dragon Legion," Claudette's eyes widened at the insignia, which incorporated in its colours the sigil of the Kazlan royal house, "led by Princess Cherie herself."

"Where is she?"

"The Silver Dragon Legion had made planet-fall three hours ago at the Leonidas Space Port. They are securing the area so as to allow reinforcements from orbit to land safely. The Princess's lieutenants are overseeing the deployment of the forces that are landing there…"

Claudette strode to the communications officer, "Lieutenant, open a channel to Leonidas space port. Tell them that I wish to speak to Princess Cherie."

"Understood, my lady," the man replied as his hands flew over the holo-keyboard, "Give me a moment…" and a holographic screen opened, revealing the rugged features of a dark-haired Kazlan who was in the midst of giving instructions to a Kazlan officer before returning his attention to the screen. The man saluted and introduced himself as Lucas Montbarron, commander of the Silver Dragon's Heavy Infantry regiment.

"Well met, Commander Lucas. I am Chapter Master Claudette Vance of the Salamanders Knightly Order. I wish to speak to Princess Cherie, so as to coordinate our efforts in breaking the Coalition assault. Where is her Highness?"

The man hesitated briefly before replying, "I regret to say that Her Highness is not here, Chapter Master Claudette. She and her personal guard are responding to a distress call from Castle Acheron."

"Castle Acheron…? Oh dear God…!" Albrecht and his officers went pale, and he turned to his tactical officer. The latter had anticipated his superior's order before the former even voiced it. The holographic strategic display shifted from the north-western theatre of battle where the Coalition was making the most inroads to the besieged Imperial Army stronghold whose defences were unleashing an avalanche of fire from its point-defence guns. The personal airship of the third Prince of Baldea hovered high over the base, its laser batteries unleashing a storm of fire and smashing Arnorian Titans to the ground with its main lance arrays. Three of its ten escorts had been blasted from the skies, and their burning remains rested in the red sands of Mars, testament to the vicious battle that was now being fought.

"That's the _Sword of Baldea_! Commander Albrecht…!" Claudette's arctic tone was one that made even Reina shiver.

"We'd better pray that Princess Cherie arrives on time, Lady Claudette. Because if not…" the Nazzadi commander pointed to several Coalition icons that were vectoring in on the embattled stronghold, "we will either be paying the Coalition an Emperor's ransom to have the Baldean prince returned to us or getting word that he died in battle."

Either outcome would most certainly lead to the Commissariat to his door and a bullet in his head.

**X X X**

**_Castle Acheron_**

**_Defensive perimeter Bastion Epsilon-Bravo_**

**_At that very moment_**

Rohga had known for the longest time that being a mercenary damned one to the cruel fate of one day having to take up arms against those who had fought alongside you and whom you had entrusted your back to. His mentor – whose captainship of the Gladiators he had inherited in the wake of the man's death in a territorial dispute between the Sun Kings of Valendia – had told him that, as a mercenary, he should be prepared for such an eventuality. Rohga looked down at the Arnorian captain whose ruined battle-armour had masked the bloodied face of a man the mercenary had respected: Luther Aryan. Rohga had met the man years ago, when the Gladiators had been part of the force sent to help the Crown Prince of Arnor crush the rebellion that was slowly splitting the once mighty-kingdom into three realms (which failed, and whose leaders later acknowledged that the only way to keep the Empire from conquering all of Arnor was to stand united in the face of its Kaiser's ambition). A competent officer and a fair man, Luther of Arthedain had risen up the ranks of Arnor's Royal Army the hard way rather than relying on his family name to win him his stripes and stars. And he did not treat the mercenaries who had fought for Arnor, as so many others had, like trash.

It was a stance that won Luther the loyalty of the mercenary companies serving in the theatre. The huge mercenary turned his gaze on the corpses that littered the area of engagement his Gladiators had been assigned to. Many of said bodies wore the ornate heavy body armour favoured by the Arnorian military. Just as many, if not more, bore the colours of the Jakartan Dragoons, a mercenary company specializing in assault and siege operations. They had risked death to get their leader out of the death-trap Prince Erwin had caught them in, and paid in blood for it.

Lacus Clyne of the Earth Sphere had said during her First Memorial Ceremony commemorating the end of the most violent conflict to grip the region in over a century that there were no winners in war, only survivors. Rohga could not help but agree. The battlefield had neither pity nor mercy for those that found themselves on it. Soldier or civilian, prince or pauper, all trembled when the Horsemen took to the field. And right now, they were turning their collective gaze on the defenders of the Imperial fire-base. Rohga's Terminator suit had an inbuilt tactical display that allowed him to survey the battlefield and allow him to strike at where the enemy was weakest – or to prevent them from doing likewise. He did not like what he was seeing. The battle-line was on the verge of being overrun. The defensive perimeter that Prince Erwin and the Imperial commander had had erected in the hours prior to the Coalition assault now sported more holes than Uranian cheese.

"Gladiator Alpha-Charlie, do you copy…?" the familiar voice of Hein Kalmar, Battlemage of Reyguard and C&C officer of the Fiery Crown Legion, broke the big mercenary out of his thoughts. The latter turned his gaze on the airship hovering over the base, whose guns were unleashing a fusillade of laser cannon fire at the encroaching enemy host, before opening the channel.

"I'm here, Hein. What's the situation?"

"I have good news and I have bad news. Bad news is that LR-sensors indicate that a second enemy force is inbound. They will be arriving in thirty minutes. Acting base commander Lu Yen has given the order for all units to fall back to the Epsilon-Terminus defence perimeter," Hein was briefly cut off as AA-cannon fire raked the already-battered hull of the _Sword of Baldea_, "Anubis damn you…! Weapons control, lock onto that AA unit. Take them out before they sink us!"

Almost immediately, the airship's laser batteries and gauss cannons raked an area which Rohga's tactical display had marked as compromised. Multiple detonations and the blinking out of several enemy icons told the mercenary that the _Sword of Baldea_'s guns had taken care of that problem.

"And the good news…?" Rohga asked as he nodded towards his subordinates and pointed towards the base with his grand Daiklave, an unspoken order for all soldiers to fall back to the Castle."

"The good news is that reinforcements are on the way," the young man replied, "Erwin really stirred up the hornet's nest by deciding to take to the field in person! Every enemy commander and soldier out to make a name for himself is practically gunning for him! And, oh hell…"

"What's wrong, kid?"

"The Fates are truly testing us this day," Hein snarled as he ordered the _Sword of Baldea_'s main guns to be powered up despite the risk of it overheating, "I've got a data upload from the Omni-Sensor network. It says here that we have three _Warhound_-class Titans and one _Reaver_-class bearing down on us."

"How long before they arrive? The Titans, I mean," Rohga asked as he strode towards the Land Raider that had delivered both him and his retinue into the thick of the fighting minutes before.

"ETA is forty-five minutes."

"And the reinforcements…?"

"One hour."

Rohga grinned as the armoured ramp of the Land Raider slammed shut, "This is going to be close. We're withdrawing to the Epsilon-Terminus Bastion. Do you have a lock on where my sister and the prince are, Hein?"

"I do," Hein replied as he linked Rohga's tactical array to the _Sword of Baldea_'s Strategic Array, allowing the mercenary captain to see what Erwin and his sister were doing. They were conducting a vicious fighting retreat from the now-broken Epsilon-Alpha defensive line, which was now littered with the corpses of both Coalition and Imperial soldiers, as well as the blazing wrecks of enemy and allied armour.

"They are," the Atlantean Battlemage added with no small amount of relish, "as you mercenaries say, kicking ass and taking names…"

**X X X**

Stocky, sturdy, heavily-armoured and reliable as hell – these were the signature characteristics of the MV-16 Broadsword, a battle-mech widely used by pilots on both sides of the Conqueror War. The Broadsword's stocky torso was built for heavy armour and frame strength, and its versatile weapons systems allowed it to be fielded in a variety of combat operations. Those same qualities that had served and saved the lives of so many of Erwin's pilots now returned to plague both the prince and his army. The red-haired Baldean prince leapt back as the Coalition Broadsword lunged towards him, its hyper-edge blade cutting through where he had been only moments before. He sprayed it with heavy machine gun fire at close-range, ripping the Coalition mech's ocular devices to ruin and tearing chunks of reinforced plasteel from its armoured carapace. The enemy pilot, realizing that his decision to take down the enemy commander was a mistake that would most likely cost him his life, made to rejoin his compatriots. He did not get far. A blast of crimson light and a barrage of heavy electron bolter fire from Sonia's _Steel Fang_ brought the Coalition Broadsword down in a thunderous explosion.

The _Steel Fang_ was one of a dozen _Loyalist_-class Siege/Assault Combat Frames that Erwin had managed to acquire over a year ago from Reyguard's arms factories in the city of Prontera. Armed with a powerful, long-range Disintegrator Pulse Laser Lance on one arm and a heavy electron bolter in another, the _Loyalist _married the durability of the Broadsword with the firepower of the _Sword_-class Scimitar. It was, in the prince's mind, the perfect battlemech with which to arm the vanguard of his forty-strong personal guard. A request – and a hefty bribe – to the Director-Engineer of the arms-factory saw to one further add-on to the _Loyalists_ that Erwin had had purchased, one that had Rohga smiling and the pilots of his vanguard nodding in approval: shield generators. That would drastically increase their chances of survival on a vicious battlefield where the smallest misstep would be one's last. If the _Loyalist_ Combat Frame had one weakness, it was one it shared with its cousins – it was vulnerable to aerial assault.

"Hah!" the blonde-haired, half-Gear's gleeful face materialized on the upper right hand corner of Erwin's primary console screen, "That's another one for me, your highness! Twenty to fifteen! You'd better up your game, my lord, or you'll be buying me and my pilots the best the _Red Phoenix_ has to offer! And we'll be ordering the best steaks and beers in the house!"

Erwin chuckled even as he raked the approaching Coalition _Hunter-_class light Combat Frames with heavy machine gun fire, "You do know that all that money you are going to make me spend at that restaurant is being put aside so that we can buy some of the Shogunate's newest mecha, don't you? And before I forget, our Legion is due to have its Individual Physical Proficiency Test sometime next month. Are you so eager to find yourself in Master Warrant Graham's clutches again?"

Sonia scowled. She, like many others, had no wish to find herself running through the diabolical obstacle course – or any of the infinite variations of it, for that matter – that the Master Warrant could conjure up almost in minutes. Once was more than enough. The sadistic genius that the former Knight-Sergeant of the Crimson Fists displayed during his helping the red-haired Baldean prince forge the disparate elements of his Legion into a unified whole was not something to be tested if one wished to live to a ripe old age.

"We're not out of this yet," the face of Aundine, an elven Gear and captain of the _Sword_-class mecha squadrons in Erwin's Legion, appeared on the upper left hand corner, "Castle Acheron's Omni-Sensor Network has detected at least two armoured divisions some thirty clicks out. Also…" a sub-screen opened, revealing a familiar multi-waveform seismic pattern that the red-haired prince knew all too well. Anyone who was anybody in the military knew that when a base's sensors picked up what an unnamed officer of the Imperial Dominion had once called the 'Footfall of the Gods', you can rest assured that a thousand-ton behemoth armed with city-killing weapons was heading your way.

"We have Titans heading our way. Four in total; three _Warhounds_ and one _Reaver_-class," Aundine finished, "IFF confirms that they belong to the Arnorian Steel Dragons Titan Legion. ETA is thirty-five minutes…" the Gear spat a curse as a barrage of laser bolts impacted against her Claymore, "Your highness, all forces are now withdrawing to Castle Acheron's defensive perimeters. It is best that we join them until reinforcements arrive."

"I do not think that our dance partners will let us go so easily, Aundine…" Sonia spat out a curse as a barrage of laser fire and rockets from three Coalition speeders slammed against her Combat Frame's void shields, causing it to short out. Erwin and his compatriots quickly unleashed a storm of fire against the swift but weakly-armoured vehicles. Two of the speeders went down in flames, exploding in mid-air as high-calibre and high-powered laser rounds tore into them. The third suffered moderate damage but managed to get away, thanks to the skill of its pilot.

"Then we will make them. Squadron Steel Fang, fall back swiftly in good order to Defence Perimeter Epsilon-Omega," Erwin looked at the sensor net, wincing as he saw several icons denoting several Coalition speeder and gunship squadrons approaching swiftly, "Squadron Fireblade, provide covering fire. Squadron Black Maiden and Squadron Iron Knight, guard our flanks. Squadron Blazecrown, with me – it's time to take our blades to the enemy."

**X X X**

**_The Shining Blade_**

**_Flagship of the Silver Dragon Legion_**

**_ETA to Castle Acheron: 14 minutes_**

The _Shining Blade_ was a grand cruiser, the heaviest of the airship class that had formed a crucial part of a planetary defence network in days long gone. Equipped with void shields capable of withstanding a full barrage from a siege titan and equipped with weapons that could level entire neighbourhoods, a heavy airship (and its attendant escorts) allowed a planetary ruler to swiftly project his or her power to any region that needed pacification. Most airships were based off the _Silverfish_-class frigate or the faster _Swordfish_-class heavy raider but the keel and hull of the _Shining Blade_ was based off _Tyndareus_-class heavy airship. Unlike the original, however, the _Shining Blade_ was equipped with three, twin-barrelled heavy gauss cannons on its prow and stern. Its broadsides boasted no less than seven shock cannons on either side and twice as many AA point-defence Icarus auto-cannons. If its formidable armaments were not enough, the _Shining Blade _also carried a complement of Assault Suits and LEVs to further harry any enemy it met in battle. Its commander, the lovely Crown Princess Cherie of Kazlas, had once boasted that her airship was capable of matching the Reyguard Kaiser's personal airship, the _Aquila Imperious_, in a straight fight. The simulation of such an encounter had seen to the silver-haired Kazlan princess ramming her devastated ship into the _Aquila Imperious_ rather than admit defeat.

When word of the display reached both the ears of the Regent-General of Kazlas and the Kaiser of Reyguard, both men, in a rare moment of agreement, decided that the only way to prevent the reckless (and sole) heir of the colony-kingdoms of Kazlas from ending up a prisoner of the enemy or dead was to ensure that her personal guard was given the authority to drag her kicking and screaming from the battlefield if need be. To that end, the Regent-General of Kazlas, Keith Aurius Eliphas, had dispatched several of his best Knights and operatives to guard his princess as she undertook the Empire's Trial of Princes. The Kaiser of Reyguard sent a Lord Commissar and a detachment of Commissariat provosts with specific instructions to do the same.

As far, neither the Kazlan Princess's honour guard nor the Imperial provosts had any reason to carry out their instructions, but today may well see them doing so. While responding to a distress call from an Imperial army base was what was expected of all who were part of the Legions, doing so by charging into the teeth of the enemy invasion with the intent of tearing out its beating heart was not. Lord Commissar Branson Cicero looked at the Holographic Strategic Array, his gloved hands digging into his arms. Everything he saw told him that any attempt to break the siege of Castle Acheron was a lost cause. The question was not if the fortress would fall, but when. The choler of the enemy commander who had been tasked to securing the region had been stoked to the point that he had committed his Titan reserves to the fray. And who could blame him? The latter had just lost four Titans and the equivalent of two armoured divisions in the space of twenty minutes and had nothing to show his superiors for it. Throw in the decimated Coalition squadrons that had tried to dislodge Acheron's defenders and the Baldean Legion that had arrived to reinforce them and one could almost sense the apoplexy that was raging in the Coalition command battlecruiser.

The blue-haired Lord Commissar looked at the silver-haired, black-and-silver armoured Crown Princess of Kazlas as she went over the battle plans with her sub-commanders one last time. If her plan succeeded, the Coalition would lose one commander not from enemy fire, but from an aneurism. It made the Commissar grin inwardly; for all her flaws, he could not deny that the young royal possessed a fine tactical mind. She knew to strike where it hurt, and then twist the knife to drive home the point that she was not to be underestimated.

"Lord Commissar Branson?" the voice of Princess Cherie broke the man out of his thoughts.

"Yes, your highness?"

"You will lead the 708th to Atrium City and assist the governor in the evacuation. Your primary objective is to fully secure the air- and star-ports in the city. Once that is done, give word to Captain Benoit. She will bring her transports into the city. Also, you are to secure the maglev stations if possible. This will allow us to get more people out of the city. But your primary objectives are the air- and star-ports. The maglev stations are the secondary objective. If you do not have the forces to secure them, then so be it."

"I understand, milady," the Commissar replied, "And where will you be?"

The Kazlan Princess studied the holographic display for several minutes before hitting several buttons on the holographic keyboard that hovered before her, causing Imperial icons denoting the units under her command (and which had yet to be deployed) to materialize in the area around Castle Acheron. A purple and blue icon bearing the sigil of the Kazlan Royal House appeared seconds later in the vicinity of Taurus Fields, where the headquarters of the city garrison was located.

"Establishing a secondary defence line in the midst of a battle that may very well kill us all," Cherie replied, "We will be fighting a holding action alongside the city and the Castle garrisons to buy you and yours the time you need, Commissar. There is no doubt in my mind that many of frontier provinces will fall to the Coalition. Victory is not possible at this point in time, Commissar Branson…" the Princess's eyes narrowed as she watched a new cluster of Coalition icons appear on the strategic array, "What we can do at this point in time is to save what we can and prepare for the next battle."

**(O)**

**_RIS Emperor-class battleship, Scylla_**

**_Flagship of the Sea Dragon Army_**

**_Near Castle Barakiel, territories of the Kingdom of Neo-Byzantium_**

Grand Admiral Imelda Krieger, supreme commander of the Sea Dragon Army of the Reyguard Empire, smiled with relish as she watched the Coalition battlecruiser, bearing the colours of the Kingdom of Neo-Byzantium on its armoured hull, explode. Its escorts unleashed a blistering barrage of laser battery fire against its killer, hoping to land a telling blow on the battleship that had murdered their wounded comrade. The _Scylla_'s shields brushed aside the bombardment even as its guns – and the ship-killer beam cannons carried by its screening LEV escort squadrons – bracketed the three frigates with a return volley that all but reduced the three ships to burning hulks. The voluptuous, golden-haired Atlantean woman rose from her fur-draped command throne and strode towards the holographic strategic array where a small group of men and women stood studying the battlefield. Among them were the armoured forms of Chapter Master Alicia Terence of the Astral Claws Imperial Knightly Order and Imelda's half-sibling, Sivar Krieger, who led the Sea Dragon Army's Marines. Issuing commands to the fleet and directing it according to the strategy they had discussed prior to the attack was Imelda's cousin and chief _strategos_ of the Sea Dragon Army, Knightmaster Destin Faroda-Krieger (22 – Character is the MC from the Ogre Battle SNES game and is a friend to several other OCs, all of whom are part of the Empire).

"How goes the battle, cousin?" Imelda asked the powerfully-built, blonde-haired man whose blue eyes were blazing beneath the red and gold circlet as he barked another order for the second squadron to form up alongside Imelda's squadron. It had taken Imelda no small amount of persuading to have her cousin assigned to her fleet, as his mentor within the Imperial Military Academy was keen on having him help the Crown Prince of the Empire assemble and train his army.

"As well as could be expected," the golden-haired man replied, "Battle-group Lancelot has managed to contain the Coalition forces on the nearby orbital platform, but will require reinforcements if we are to keep the latter off our backs. I have re-deployed Commander Nevlas's cruiser squadron to provide combat support."

Of course, seeing a chance to strengthen her position within the Imperial Court, Imelda had made a bargain with Destin's mentor, the Archmage Warren Moon, to help assemble and train the Crown Prince's army. She remembered the soul-piercing scrutiny that the older man had turned on her. Running off with his protégé was one thing. Running off with the remnants of several demolished – and well-decorated – legions he had welded together with the aid of his other students was enough to have the older man throw thunderbolts at her. Fortunately, he did not. But he had left her with no illusions as what would happen to her if he found out that he had played both him and the Empire false.

"And how are my forces doing?"

"We have suffered 30% casualties, Imelda. Battlestars _Zulfiqar _and _Eternal Winter _have suffered moderate damage. Their star-fighter and LEV complements have taken 40% casualties as of the last hour alone. Frigate battle-squadrons Eridale and Sedna have moved in to reinforce the Battlestars' escort screen. The 3rd Flotilla and the _Iron King_ have managed to pin the Coalition's 4th Fleet, but will have to withdraw if – focus on Castle Barakiel, sector Indigo," Destin's last words were directed at the ship's AI, who immediately complied, and zoomed in on where a fleet of Coalition Heavy Star Destroyers were holding position, "The 127th Coalition flotilla commits to their AOE."

"Tell Swartzhelm if he doesn't break through the Coalition fleet, I will throw him out the airlock myself," Imelda gave the region where her 3rd Flotilla had been bogged down a scathing look, "I grow weary of his failures."

"That area is heavily defended, sister," Sivar said, "One cannot expect a man like Swartzhelm to…" and was cut off when one of the CIC officers manning a nearby console informed Destin that the _Overlord_-class warship, _Wolf Lord_, was taking heavy damage. The Imperial officer turned his attention on the strategic display to where said ship was. He winced when he saw that the _Wolf Lord_ was taking on not one, but three ships. And it was winning.

"Gods damn it," the Sea Dragon Army's chief _strategos_ opened up a channel to said battleship, "Gilbert, I told you and Canopus not to do anything crazy! Which part of punching a hand down the enemy's throat and taking on three Grand Cruisers was sane?"

"Put a lid on it, boy!" the grinning face of a bearded man materialized a foot away from Destin, "I'm showing these slugs how real men fight. So unless you want to change the trousers you wear for a skirt, you'd better bloody come along. I'll make a road for the star-fort for the Chevalier brats and Sivar's skirt-chasers before you know it!"

Destin twitched, and it was all that Imelda and Alicia could do to not erupt in laughter. If there was one thing to be said about the commanders of Crown Prince Tristan's army, they were an amusing – and competent, let it not be forgotten – bunch. Pissing contests between them and the Sea Dragon Army's crew and officers were as common as brawls in Prontera's red-light district.

"I'll make you eat those words, old man," Sivar replied good-naturedly, "My men will show both you and that oversized chicken just how we fight. Destin…?"

"Master Cadien," Destin turned towards the Chevalier representative, "Prepare your Pandora and their limiters. Tell them that the moment we get within range of Castle Barakiel, we will launch all Thunderhawk gunships and Shark Assault boats. Stop for nothing. Your mission is simple: search and destroy. Sivar, Alicia, the two of you will dedicate two companies to securing the star-fort's main reactor. The rest are to secure Barakiel's Command Centre, its docks and the sectors adjoining the first two. Gilbert…" Destin turned towards the older man who had grin that would put the Cheshire cat's to shame, "When this is over, I am so going to kill you. Until then, stay alive."

"Watch me try to die, boy. The Thirteenth Lord doesn't want me in Hell."

Imelda laughed then. Yes, this was a good way to live. When one's blood ran hot in one's veins, when wealth, glory and power were within one's grasp, and where legends that could equal those that have been writ in centuries long gone could be made.

"All ships, heed my command," Imelda swept one hand up like a conquering Empress, "Advance! Break the Coalition trash upon your prows and send them scurrying back to their dens. The Iron Throne will have this sector!"

**(O)**

**_Mars, the Kingdom of Lordaeron_**

**_Cathedral of the Sanctified_**

**_Chamber of the All-Seeing Eye_**

The command had been given, and those who swore fealty to the Supreme Lord of the Church of Lordaeron did as he bade. In a dozen tongues, these, the faithful, drew their blades and prepared to bring it down upon the throats of the infidel and the heretic. Break the sword of the enemy, their master had commanded. Let him not see the blade that slays his allies; let him turn his wrathful gaze upon his hated enemy, and let his enemy ready spear and bow for war.

Several asked their master one question: What of the Princess who strives to accomplish that which her enemies seek to lay to ruin?

And to this, the crimson-maned demigod replied: Leave her be. Let her end be writ by the hands of her enemies. Should they succeed, they will learn most grievously the cost of slaying the one who could deliver them from the fire. Should they fail, it would give the emissaries of the Iron Throne a good reason to sway the White Princess and her allies to the banner of the Empire. The Earth Sphere was a house divided, its sons and daughters at war with one another for a legacy whose ashes and embers had been kicked over by the passage of time. It was a place where her archenemy was, lurking in the shadows, striking out at both her servants and at those whose actions would bring that which he laboured long decades to make strong crashing down. She smiled; in that, he had never changed. His duty and the sands of his life would soon come to an end, she would see to that.

For now, the Supreme Lord of the Church of Lordaeron had more important matters to see to. A new chapter in human history was about to be written, one that could only come about only after the laurel was passed into the hands of the wicked and unworthy. The vices which felled Prince and peasant alike would draw them out into the open, where those that hunted them waited to lay them low. The demigod opened one armoured fist, palm upwards, and spoke several stanzas in a language not heard for over a thousand years – one that had been spoken only by a select few in an alien priesthood who served a powerful deity whose children walked Creation in hallowed glory. Numerous rune-stones materialized in mid-air, circling around the alabaster-armoured, crimson-maned giant in a swirl of slowly-moving starlight.

Yes, she had time enough to gaze upon those whose actions would change history.

**_To be continued…_**

**Author's afterword**

Yes! Finally, after over seven months of hard work, Chapter 11 of GSD – Lion of Heaven, Edited is finished! Damn! I apologize to all those who have been following this epic – and complicated – work of mine and who have been waiting for an update. Having a full-time job and the responsibilities it entails (along with paying the bills and all that crap) really limits the time I have to do my hobbies.

Now, I have been receiving some PMs from some guys who tell me that my story is complicated. I understand – and you're not wrong. Even I, the writer, get lost sometimes. Sad, I know. As such, I need help also. If I forget, miss out or get things wrong, please point it out. I will be setting up a small forum sometime in the future for this project, so that I can make official the finer details of this project and make an end of the confusion.

Okay, now for the prelude of the next chapter: We will get to meet the Original Characters who will play a major role in the story, some of whom you've met already in this and prior chapters. We will see what the Lunar Wolf of ZAFT, Yzak Joule, and his second, Deakka Elsman have been up to. We will the terrorists on both sides of the fence prepare to strike at Lacus Clyne (and in one occasion, being struck at by a vengeful angel with a fiery sword). We will meet the President of the EA (and realize that he is as much player as played). We will see a confrontation between Cagalli and Shinn Asuka, even as Phantom Pain makes their move. We will watch two years of peace come to an end and the ambitions of the mighty bloom and bear the fruit of their homelands' ruin.

**_Annotations:_**

1 – This is the Compact that will be discussed later on

2 – Twelve Empires/Kingdoms will invade the Earth Sphere

3 – This is a date I should take note of…

4 – This is the fate of one of my OCs

5 – This is the fate of yet another one of my OCs aligned with Kira

6 – PAS: PLANT-Aligned State

7 – Egypt comprises of Egypt, Ethiopia and Sudan

8 – This was from Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz, and was originally spoken by Mariemaia Barton/Khushrenada. I'm hijacking it for use in the story

9 – Dark Schneider's Rebellion five hundred years ago is known as the Black Rebellion; he is the brightest, bastard son of the current Lord Archangel's predecessor

10 – Yes, National Geographic's future incarnation; the role undertaken by Interstellar Geographic is the same as NG

11 – Yes, Love Hina plays a small part here. Urashima Keitaro will make a appearance somewhere in the story, and will have a prologue dedicated to his name. Oh, and Valendia is similar to the Red Man kingdoms in ERB's and Dynamite's Warlords of Mars

12 – Somalian Liberation Army (SLA) is a major insurgent group in East Africa

13 – LOGOS and the Clyne faction are two of the four factions in the Earth Sphere. We'll get to the remaining two next chapter…

14 – The Alpha Legion in this story are inspired and operate in the same manner as their Warhammer 40K counterparts. They serve as the Kaiser of Reyguard's hidden blade and counter-insurgency group and are capable of field operations as well.

15 – These are scenes from a future chapter.

16 – The United Earth Front, led by Senator Howard T. Ackerman (from Red Alert 3) are the main political antagonists in this story.

17 – From Trinity Blood manga; she is the mother of one of my OCs

18 – Said treaty is known as the Convention of Steel, which forbids countries from using technologies which are exclusive to certain countries and/or organizations. Doing so will piss a LOT of powerful people and countries of, so most try not to get in the bad books of either.

19 – The Black Lions are OFFICIALLY the name of Griever's group.

20 – These are the Supreme Commanders of the Reyguard Empire; their guardian AIs will be listed below: Leucothea – Guardian Deity AI of the Sea Dragon Armada, a Greek sea goddess who aided sailors in distress; Surtur – Guardian Deity AI of the Fire Dragon Legion; Osiris – Guardian Deity AI of the Black Dragon Legion; Tyr – Guardian Deity of the Blue Dragon Legion; Tiamat – Guardian Deity of the Imperial Capital.

21 – Valkyria Chronicles I characters will make a debut soon…

22 – Character is the MC from the Ogre Battle SNES game and is a friend to several other OCs, all of whom are part of the Empire.

23 – OC alert; one of them is from Chapter 7, another introduced the following chapter

24 – The Kisaragi clan is a powerful merchant clan, equivalent to a Rogue Trader clan in WH40K; the family manse is a converted Star-fort and their ships ply the trade routes from icy Sedna to sun-blasted Mercury – and the decadent comforts found therein would have been the equal to that of the Valendian Sun-Kings.

25– Each Omni-Sensor Array Network AI of the states of the Solar System – except the Earth Sphere and certain states of the Venusian Federation – has a name and a personality.

26 – Reginald is of the Glastheim line and Director-General of the Reyguard Empire's Brotherhood of Nod, its intelligence services.

27 – Gara Glastheim, one of the Four Chaos Emperors who fought alongside Dark Schneider of Lordaeron during the Black Rebellion; characters are all from 'Bastard!' anime and manga.

28 – CthulhuTech RPG game race; more about them in my outlines forum – when I get to it. And rest assured, I WILL.

29 – Yes, Queen's Blade characters will appear in this story as well…

30 – OC to be introduced next chapter…

31 – MAVOR = Meteoric Assault Vector Operational Artillery.

32 – MS Units from Code Geass.


	14. Chapter 12 - Preview

**_Gundam SeeD Destiny - Lion of Heaven: Chapter 12 (Preview)_**

_**Author's foreword:**_I am posting this small preview of the next chapter so as to pour some oil into the fire, as it is. This is but part of a whole chapter, so look forward to the day when the whole thing is posted (by which point, this preview will be deleted). For now, enjoy, and know that we are coming closer to the Break the World event.

**(O)**

**_The Pandemonium Fortress_**

**_Somewhere in the Solar System_**

The young man slept within the Golden Sarcophagus, an ancient construct made of psychoactive wraith-bone and rare metals a handful of which would be worth an Emperor's ransom. Sigils and runes of engraved both on the ornate casket and the floor burned with an otherworldly, white-gold fire that sang praises in an unknown tongue to the deities and heroes whose strength had made the turning of the ages possible. Such was the potency of the wards that even the master of the citadel dared not cross the threshold without risking injury. The latter had only done so twice, the first time being when she interred the young king her servants had pulled from his ruined steed at the end of the Bloody Valentine War in the Sarcophagus and the second being on the Christmas the following year. There was no doubt in the minds of the citadel's guardians that their master would walk the halls of the Pandemonium Fortress once more before the year was out.

Caridad Eltnam Atlasia, sister of Via Eltnam Atlasia and wife of Haruma Yamato, gazed down at her slumbering nephew with pained eyes. The Fates have never been kind to the children of her sister. From the day they were born, they had been sought out by those who desired their power or who wished to make an end of her brother-in-law's _magnum opus_ of creating demigods the likes of which Creation had not seen since the High First Age. The purple-haired woman closed her eyes, remembering what Ulen Hibiki (who now headed Lordaeron's Engel Project with the Archangel-Gear, Professor Akimura) had said close to twenty years ago, at the height of the party that honoured his accomplishments in a field regarded by the religious as an affront to the will of God (or gods, if said religion was a pantheistic one): _'I reached forth and wrested from God and His angels that which they had jealously guarded and denied humanity in their arrogance. And before anyone accuses me of the same, know that I did not do what I have done to assuage my pride. I have done this so that humanity as a whole would endure. Let tonight be a new beginning. Let the past wither and die. Let us rekindle the flame that was snuffed out a thousand years ago when the Dominion fell. Let us take the first step to breaking down the walls that have kept us prisoner for centuries!'_

Via had loved Ulen; the latter was a visionary who had wanted nothing more than to better the world he lived in. He had bent both his considerable wealth and intellect to that end, to recreate that which the human race had lost in the centuries after the end of the War of Wrath. His treatises were required reading by any and all who sought to walk in his footsteps. Alyssa Sears, the woman whose genius had seen to the creation of the Black and White Lions upon whom the fate of the Earth Sphere would be decided, was one such individual. Gilbert Dullindal, the current Chairman of the PLANTs, who had loved Caridad's sister as much as he did Talia Gladys (who Caridad learned was now a high-ranking Admiral in ZAFT), was another.

But where the three sought to impose their will upon the world, Via had sang it into shape and form, making strong the heart and soul before forging the flesh that held it. That which eluded the greatest minds of the Cosmic Era came easily to her. Caridad had long been aware that her older sister had had a much closer link to the Akashic Records than any in the Hundred Clans, a legacy by which the Eltnam family had been bequeathed over seven thousand years ago when two of their daughters fell in love with the grandson of a red-haired Faker who had won the Fifth Grand Grail War. That union served not only to bring a clan – or rather, clans – whose mystical and martial might had made them a force to be reckoned with under the aegis of one whose members had made possible the rituals still used by the magi for their experiments, but also to reinvigorate a clan whose numbers dwindled with every passing decade.

_"Ours is a destiny that ends either in madness or death, Caridad. Those who desire our power know not the price they must pay to wield it. Better to bargain with the Devil herself and suffer the torments of the Infernum than share in our damnation. We have dragged far too many a noble soul into Hell, my dearest niece. Your husband knows that, but cares little. That marks him as a good man, one I am glad to call my kin. I embark on a gamble. Win or lose, before the turn of this century, we will see if all our labours and all the sacrifices we have made in the past two thousand years were worth it. If I succeed, we will have that we longed for ten thousand years: freedom."_

Caridad's eyes fell onto the ring which the Supreme Lord of the Church of Lordaeron had taken from her own hand and placed on Kira's. It was a beautiful, peerless thing, made by alien master artisans for a three-score beings whom the Fates had marked for greatness and ruin; a chain that bound both saint and sinner to the will of an immortal who wanted nothing more than to topple the Almighty from His throne. Inspired by the works of Tolkien, the aptly-named Rings of Power granted its bearers strength and abilities equal to that of the long-dead Exalts who had aided the Almighty in His war against the terrible god-monsters who sought to claim the second's Creation as their own in a bygone age of myth. And just like in his books, the lesser Rings of Power and their bearers were subordinated to the will of the one who wielded the One Ring. There was no doubt in Caridad's mind that that which was on her nephew's finger was the last. The elegant, sinuous script on the ring burned with a crimson-gold flame, its meaning clear to those who were familiar with the great author's works. The purple-haired woman put one gloved hand on the Sarcophagus. Why had the Supreme Lord of the Church given that which was her crown and sceptre to her nephew?

_"I neither wish Griever Bloodbane of the Black Lions nor Cross Lionheart of ZAFT to inherit that which does not belong to them, Lady Caridad. But as things stand, I must permit my servants their…amusements. Let them believe that they hold the fates of billions in their hands. You and I both know that their arrogance will prove to be their undoing."_

Caridad heard the One Ring whisper in her mind, but the tone of its psychic voice was not the same one that she had heard many months prior when it graced the hand of the Supreme Lord of the Church of Lordaeron. The sultry, seductive tenor had given way to one that was redolent with power. It spoke prayers in Latin and Arabic, beseeching the Almighty to defend the helpless and protect the innocent. That changed when Caridad felt the thirst she had been fighting back for days suddenly seize her. The prayers became catechisms of hatred and detestation of the monster that lurked in Caridad's soul.

The purple-haired woman staggered back, just as the sound of swiftly-drawn steel warned her that one of Kira's Protectors had just materialized within the Sanctum. Caridad barely had time to leap out of the way before a voluptuous woman with long, reddish-pink hair descended from on-high like a meteor. Twin, chain-linked stakes once wielded by the Gorgon Queen in the Fifth Grand Grail War long ago materialized in Caridad's hands and her now-golden eyes met predatory, blue-green eyes of Mikagami Kagura. The assassin was clad in a low-cut bodysuit and was equipped with a battle-harness that held the deadly tools of a murderous trade. A brown cowboy hat and a black and silver scroll-worked cloak completed a sensuous ensemble that made even Caridad's heart race.

"Kagura…" Caridad did not recognize her own voice. The Beast within her soul had dug its talons deep and wanted to rise from the pit from which it had been imprisoned. Oh, _Kami_, when had it gotten so strong? The bloodthirst rose like a tsunami that drowned out everything that was human in her. She screamed for help, but knew that there would be none to hear her plea. Where was her husband? Only he could save her!

"It was a mistake to allow you to remain within the Fortress, Lady Caridad," the swordswoman's voice was silky as she rose, swinging her twin katana in a slow arc, "You are a threat to my master. Lord Metatron and Master Hibiki believed otherwise, but I am not so foolish. The blood in your veins – like the sewage that flows in mine – damns you to a fate far worse than death."

"Do not stand between me and my nephew, sword-dancer," Caridad snarled, her hands tightening around her stakes, "All that he is belongs to me. His flesh, blood and soul – all of it is mine. I will not be denied. Now, stand aside."

Kagura pointed one of her master-worked swords at her, the Ring of Power around the fourth finger of her left hand gleaming with an inner flame, "Or you'll what, _Vampire_? Kill me? By all means, try. It will give me no small amount of pleasure to make an end of you. Better that my master learns that you died trying to hold onto your humanity than to see what you are slowly becoming."

"I will drain you dry for that, whore," Caridad hissed as she lunged forward, her blood roaring as her Disciplines – the bloodline gift granted to the sons and daughters of the Hundred Clans – came to the fore, "But before that, I will have you learn pain the likes of which you can only dream about."

**X X X**

Haruma Yamato gave a strangled gasp of pain as he fell to his knees, forcing the golden-haired Solar Exalt he had been sparring with to arrest his attack. The latter, a powerfully-built Throne Guard Centurion, swiftly laid aside his blade and knelt next to the dark-haired man, "Are you well, Lord Haruma?"

"My…my wife," it took Haruma all of his considerable willpower to speak; the pain that gripped him nearly drove all rational thought from his mind. When he met Caridad some twenty years ago, she had told him in the weeks prior to their marriage that to agree to the soul-binding ritual was to know the torments that afflicted each and every member of the family he was marrying into. Haruma's father, King Connor of Angmar, had told both him and his many siblings when they had been younger about the Bloody Angels of the Hundred Clans. Each of those stories bespoke of their martial puissance and their ability to murder that which Death itself could not end. It had amazed Haruma that his father had commanded and fought alongside them during his war against the former occupant of the Obsidian Throne, the Mad King Numedias, and that he had sired children on three of them. But what frightened Haruma the most in those stories that his father had told him had been what the latter had called the Beast. Against his better judgment, Haruma had asked his father about it.

_"Imagine, Haruma, of a dragon whose might is such that it can tear the skies down. Now imagine that power and wrath, should that monster be loosed from its chains, be turned on you and yours. This is not madness born of the loss of reason, or the berserk fury of one of the Blood Dragons. This is not a blade you can turn on its bearer, Haruma. It is one you must allow to sink into you if you desire to control it…" _

Haruma gritted his teeth to ward off the pain. He had lost count of the number of times his wife's Beast had overwhelmed her. Each time, he had been there to bring it under control. The attacks had lessened when Kira had been brought into their home. The Beast within Caridad tore free of its chains when his son – for Kira had been nothing else – had died in the closing hours of the Bloody Valentine War. Had it not been for the intercession of the Fortress Guardians, Haruma knew that he would have died.

"My…my wife," Haruma spat out blood, the psychic roar that was indication that his wife's Beast had torn free of its restraints all but deafening, "She….she's…"

"Gunther!" the pressure doors leading to the training room parted, revealing a red-haired woman in the ornate war-plate of Lordaeron's elite warrior cadre and four white-armoured Tower Guardians, all of whom were armed with master-worked force halberds, "It's the Lady Caridad! She's gone berserk again! Kagura managed to tie her down, but she's badly injured and needs help!"

"Where are they, Gretchen?"

"The Antechamber of the First," the woman replied.

"Mobilize the Tower Guard, now! We must get there before it's too late! Has the integrity of the Sanctum been compromised?"

"Praise be to Him in Heaven, no," Gretchen replied, "Kagura managed to draw Lady Caridad from the Sanctum into the Halls of the Blessed Saints before engaging her. You two," the woman turned to the Tower Guardians behind her, "go help Lord Haruma. We must get him to the Antechamber. Only he can calm the Lady Caridad down."

"I do not like this, Captain," one of the Tower Guardian said, "He will…"

"Believe me, I know," Gretchen shivered, remembering the agonised screams that had sent ice down the spines of warriors who had seen every horror the world could throw at them, "But he is a man of honour and duty. As long as our Lord Kira and his wife are standing behind him, do not expect him to shy away."

_**End of Preview**_


	15. Message from the Author - Overhaul

**A message from the author:**

I do apologize if everyone was hoping to see the latest chapter of my _magnum opus_, but I have come with a message. I will be going through the last 14 chapters to do some **HEAVY** editing. I have allowed myself to be distracted by far too many crossovers, and will be doing some pruning. But there are some things I would like to share:

First, the Conqueror War waged by the Reyguard Empire will get its own story (albeit a shotgun, straight-into-the-fire approach). This will form the background and basis of the later parts of Gundam SeeD Destiny, Lion of Heaven - Edited. The timeline of this story will run concurrently with the main one, but will take place six to seven months before the first chapter of the latter.

Second, any and all parts involving the Holy Kingdom of Lordaeron will remain, albeit with some..minor changes.

Third, I really, REALLY need to get my timeline and historical facts right. It annoys me to no end when I use another name to describe the same event - e.g.: Dark Schneider's little rebellion was known as both the Black Rebellion and the Ragnarok Schism. That rebellion led to Angmar and Reyguard seceding from Lordaeron.

Fourth, I need to standardise the military forces and governmental apparatus of the Solar System's many disparate states, as well as the kind of Gears (which comes from the Guilty Gear genre, and which I hijacked to my own unscrupulous ends *snicker*). When I finalize them, you can find them on my forum, listed on my profile page. After that, changes will be minimal, and only before said organizations and countries take center stage.

Fifth, I am going to take the time to link the sub-plots to the primary plot-line. Many of my sub-plots take the form of crossovers from games and anime I have watched (and which you may have loved as much as me). They will have some impact on the main storyline, believe me.

Last but not least, I have not yet abandoned this story. If I do, it means I have followed Kouryou Saber across the River Styx and will need someone to take up my mantle. Believe me, the crown you will bear - as I am feeling it, even now - is a heavy one. Stay with me, brothers and sisters of mine, and we shall see this story to an end.

_Ave Imperator,_

Spiritblade

P.S.: I am also taking the time to first finish my Guilty Gear: Shades of Passion story. I have no wish to leave work that has taken up the better part of two years unfinished


End file.
